


A King and His Hero

by HiddenSunrise



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred is a dick, Arthur is a dick, Cardverse, M/M, This is my first fic on this site, be prepared for a ton of angst, everyone is a dick, happy stuff is in this i promise, idk what im doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 83,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenSunrise/pseuds/HiddenSunrise
Summary: When Spade Castle is suddenly captured by their biggest rival the Club King it's up to Arthur to escape the castle with his King. However, when said King is not as receptive to the idea as most would be, Arthur learns that it's a long and frustrating journey back to reclaim the throne.





	1. Chapter 1

**A King and His Hero**

  
**Chapter 1:**

  
The night sky was alight with twinkling stars, each one different than the next, as they created the perfect picture alongside the moon looking down upon the sleeping city. Some houses still had a warm orange glow emitting from their windows indicating its members were still awake at such late hours, creating orange spots in a blanket of darkness. The city streets were deserted and void of life in comparison to their daily hustle and bustle – the whole place quiet and filled with a peaceful tranquillity that Arthur loved.

  
Sitting out upon the balcony his eyes glanced out across the beautiful landscape of his kingdom, admiring the beauty his kingdom created even when blanketed in night. There was a slight chill to the air this evening but Arthur expected nothing less from a spring night, keeping his coat on from earlier in the day to keep it from reaching him. Beside his chair sat a small circular table with a book laid open on it and a small candle providing him with all the light he needed.

  
The book was beautifully made; the leather-bound cover marked with the letter ‘A’ swirled into it, encased in a spade, and upon the yellowing pages inside were multiple entries of writing. The handwriting was the same cursive from beginning to the current page – it was a journal fit for a Queen.

  
He had once had a journal as a child, treasuring it and writing about everything a small boy could dream of until the day his brothers had caught hold of it. They tormented it, tore it and ruined it until the journal was no more. Arthur had been heartbroken and had never owned a journal since, until such times.

  
Arthur had made it a habit to write within the journal as often as he could; writing about his day, the people he had met and all the other duties he had come to deal with as the Queen of Spades. At first, he had missed a few days, forgetting to write anything but soon found a rhythm and had never missed a day since. Many Queen’s before him had done such similar things, it would be a shame if Arthur were the one to end it; so, when Jack Yao presented him with the journal he was very much eager to write as much about his ruling as possible.

  
The Queen had just finished his entry for the evening, leaving the pages open and allowing the ink to dry under the cool breeze of the evening air. It was an unusually peaceful evening for Arthur – the Queen usually attending to documentation late into the evening before retreating to his chambers for the night. However, all his documents had been signed and those that hadn’t he deemed could wait until morning, he’d had a rather productive day today.

  
As Arthur waited, his thoughts wondered to that of his King, questioning just how he was feeling as he finished off his work also. The King had spoken to Arthur just as he was heading off toward their chambers, catching his attention and explaining his plans for the evening. He had a few documents to read and sign for and important planning that couldn’t wait until dawn. He insisted that it would take no longer than an hour, reassuring him that he would join Arthur in their room before the Queen went to sleep.

  
The memory alone was enough to bring a small smile to Arthur’s face. The King was kind, charming and quite possibly the most handsome man Arthur had ever seen. Sure, their beginnings were neither the smoothest nor the greatest and, as expected, they had their fair share of arguments and disagreements but Arthur could confidently admit to himself that he had fallen deeply in love with the young King who had stolen his heart. Just the thought of him eagerly walking back to their chambers to see him had his heart fluttering.

  
Arthur’s thoughts were shattered abruptly as an almighty crashing sound came from below. It scared the living daylights out of him, his entire body jostling in his chair before he leapt from his chair and walked to the balconies edge. Pressing his hands against the balconies cold stone he peered over the side to see if he could spot the source of such noise, however he was unable to spot anything in the darkness, the pathways into the castle looking as normal. Then a sound came from inside the castle this time, his head snapping in that direction as it carried down the corridor and faintly arrived outside his room.

  
The Queen swallowed thickly, standing up straight and taking a breath as he tried to calm his thoughts. It simply had to be a servant dropping something. That was all. Almost as quickly as the thought arrived he dismissed it, remembering that most of his servants had turned down for the night and that only a few were left roaming the castle at this time.

  
Without any more hesitation, Arthur reached across and closed up his journal, pulling it into his arms and hurrying into his room to hide it back in its secret place where it belonged – only the three Royals of Spades knowing of its location within the walls of the castle. After making sure the journal was safe and hidden away between the loose bricks behind Arthur’s bookcase, he headed to the doors of his room, thankful he had yet to change from his regular clothes into his nightwear even if the bow around his neck felt like it was strangling him.

  
Pale fingers wrapped around the handle and gently eased it opened without a sound, peering down the torch lit corridors. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, however, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach and he knew whenever he had this feeling something bad always followed. It was an instinct he was beginning to trust. Something was wrong and as if to prove his point the alarm bells of the castle began to ring, loud chimes echoing out into the peaceful night air and alerting the entire citadel outside that the castle was under attack.

  
At the sound, Arthur found his himself looking up, peridot eyes widening as he took a small moment to register just what was happening. His sleeping kingdom would be waking up in panic, his sleeping castle even more so.

  
It didn’t take anywhere near as long for him to reach back into the room and grab the sword propped up against the wall beside the door before his feet dragged him out the safety of his chambers and into the halls. Even as he fastened the sword onto his belt he had only one thought that overpowered the rest whirling around his head.

  
He had to get to Alfred.

  
Arthur had known that confrontation was on the horizon – he and Alfred had even had a meeting about it earlier that day to discuss their tactics for war – but for there to be an invasion? He didn’t believe the King of Clubs actually had the balls for it. If the Clubs had broken into the castle Alfred was in serious danger and it wouldn’t be long before they found him. Arthur cast his own danger to one side and focused entirely on getting his King to safety.

  
The Kingdom of Spades had been without rulers for too long, Arthur wasn’t about to let another selfish kingdom take them away from the people who needed them the most.

  
Soon shouts, screams and the sound of thundering footsteps could be heard bouncing off the stone walls. Panic surged through the castle as Spades was caught unawares, Arthur’s heart racing as he navigated through the castle, wary of every corner, hallway and shadow.

  
He was several hallways and stairways away from his chambers before he came across any trouble, heavy steps coming from up ahead. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where they were heading – this was the main pathway to the King and Queen’s quarters. They were clearly in search of Arthur, if not Alfred if they hadn’t already located him.

  
Looking around in panicked desperation Arthur found himself hiding behind one of the large pillars within the hallway. He wanted to postpone conflict for as long as he could – he would need his strength. He was certain that the true battle was elsewhere. Holding his breath, he stayed remotely still and pressed his back against the pillar as the group of men passed, their chainmail jingling with every movement of their bodies. Once they were out of ear shot and most definitely gone Arthur emerged and instantly fell back into running, feet hitting the ground at an immediate sprint toward where he hoped Alfred would be: the throne room.

  
Arthur logically thought it out as he ran, reassuring himself several times that he was going in the right direction. Important documents were written, read and signed in Alfred’s office but it had been almost an hour since Alfred had discussed his plans with him so Arthur had to presume that his husband had completed those and found his way to the throne room. Arthur wished he could be in two places at once but he had to trust his gut and pray that Alfred would be where he thought he would be.

  
His breathing began to grow ragged as he ran, descending a long set of stairs with the concentration not to fall. His ears were constantly listening out for threats but as he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs he collided with someone he hadn’t heard who was rushing in the opposite direction. Arthur let out a yelp as his arm was gripped tightly as he was dragged back onto the stairs, stumbling up a couple and trying not to wince as his back was pressed harshly against the wall. He struggled instantaneously against his attacker, fighting all the more when they pressed a firm hand over his mouth and held him in place.

  
Green eyes were already in fight or flight mode, staring at the man only to find panic stricken golden brown eyes staring right back at him. Long brown hair had fallen from its usual neat ponytail and was left to fall around his shoulders in tousled waves, face glimmering under the flames of the torches lighting the castle and a small gash to his cheek was bleeding lightly.

  
Arthur had never seen the Jack of Spades look so vulnerable.

  
Upon the realisation he wasn’t being attacked and his life wasn’t hanging in the balance, Arthur relaxed, relieved to see that Yao was alive and still breathing. He pried the others hand off his mouth, rather surprised that Yao would use such methods to keep him quiet but he supposed that desperate times called for desperate measures, and attempted to speak only to be shushed instantly.  
“We don’t have much time, they’re on my heels. Arthur, you must get to Alfred. He is in the throne room, I tried but I could not reach him. Ivan is heading there as we speak – we have little time. Alfred cannot face him alone. You know the plan Arthur; I'm afraid it’s the only one we have left,” Yao whispered harshly, his breathing rushed and coming his short breathes from all his running. Yao was much older and wiser than Arthur; the Jack had practically watched King Alfred grow up so Arthur was astounded he still had the energy in him to run around the castle, let alone fight for it.

  
Arthur nodded in understanding, fully aware of the plans that had been made in secret without the King’s knowledge. Yao let out a heavy breath of relief and put his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze and a weak but positive smile. His eyes looked up over Arthur as if this would be the last time he would ever see him and it made Arthur almost well up with tears as he too placed a firm hand on Yao’s shoulder. It was a brief goodbye without the need for words before the two parted, Yao pushing Arthur to the wall once more before leaping off the steps and back onto the corridor.  
“There!” A gruff voice yelled before racing feet rushed along the corridor, Yao immediately taking off and luring the group of Club soldiers away from the Spade Queen. He stayed motionless against the wall as they passed; only darting out and running in the direction they had come once they had passed. When he saw Yao again he would thank him for everything for this was not goodbye, merely a short farewell that Alfred was none the wiser too yet.

  
Arthur swore he had never run with such a force and determination before, brown boots hitting the floor and propelling him forward with every intention of saving Alfred’s life.  
Now closer to the real battle he could hear swords clashing and every other sound that went with battle – everything that Arthur had heard before during his rule. An ear-splitting scream close by brought Arthur’s feet to an automatic halt whether he wanted them or not, boots sliding across the floor for a small second- the sound so shrill Arthur had to fight the urge to cover his ears as his stomach twisted at the horrible sound.

  
He found the source of the screaming down a corridor to his left, the floor covered in crimson liquid and a young serving girl lay upon her stomach with a sword piercing her back, securing her to the ground. Blood streamed from her wound like a river, oozing out into a pool around her as she shakily looked up at Arthur’s boots, eyes lifting until they locked with his gaze.

  
She mouthed something to him that he didn’t quite make out before her head fell to the floor with a small thud, dead pale blue orbs focused on nothing but Arthur. He swallowed thickly and found his hands shaking as he tried to hold himself together. She was young, innocent and probably had a family waiting for her to come home. She was a life that should never have been taken. This was his battle and the young woman had done nothing to deserve such a brutal death. Her parents would presume her safe – the safest place in the kingdom was the castle. Yet, here, Arthur was stood staring at her lifeless body.

  
It made him feel sick and furious at the same time.

  
It felt like minutes he was stood staring at her but she had died quickly as it had only been mere seconds when the soldier responsible for her death stepped forward and tore his weapon from her body as if she were nothing but an animal. The other’s rallied behind him and Arthur knew they had no intention of keeping him alive. This was an end game for Ivan the King of Clubs. He was taking no prisoners, he wanted Alfred and anything that got in his way was to be put down. He knew that Arthur would be one of those problems. Arthur would just have to play that part awfully well. He wasn’t about to let some selfish, crazy, grudge-holding King take Alfred away from him or the Spade Kingdom.

  
The men, confident in their numbers, strode over the serving girls body and carried her blood in their footsteps as Arthur remained motionless at the end of the hall. He wasn’t afraid; in fact, he thought them incredibly stupid. Within seconds of them even moving Arthur simply focused on their weapons, the metal lifting out their hands and above their heads without Arthur having to lift a finger. The men stopped in their tracks, gasping and watching with widened eyes as their first line of defence flew through the air above them, over Arthur’s head to hover behind him before they fell to the floor with a deafening clang.

  
Arthur turned to look over his shoulder at the pile of weapons now situated behind him, threateningly looking back at the terrified guards who were practically shaking in their boots without their sharpened swords pointed at Arthur’s throat.

  
Ah, now they realised who they were faced with.

  
Stories of the Queen of Spades reached all corners of the four kingdoms. Arthur was the most powerful magician of their time; those that went against him never received an easy fight. Very few came back and those that did never wanted to hear of Spades ever again. Arthur was smart and cunning, mix in powerful magic that had grown within him since the moment he was born and he was deadly.  
“Now then gentlemen,” Arthur smirked darkly, flicking his wrists and pushing his palms forward towards the soldiers which launched the soldiers backwards by an unseen force. Each one was knocked from their feet into the wall behind them with enough force to knock them completely unconscious, gathering in a heap together on the floor at the bottom of the wall in a collection of armour and limbs. “I think it’s past your bedtime.”

  
Arthur hoped when they awakened they would considered themselves lucky. He was capable of much more than simply knocking them unconscious however he hadn’t the time to waste on a merciless rampage over a serving girl whom had once severed him pastries and smiled at him in passing.

  
Taking a deep breath, Arthur spared one last look at the girl. His eyes filled with sorrow but there was nothing he could do for her now – he had been too late to save her. Tearing a tapestry from the wall – he figured it couldn’t be that important if it was simply hanging on a random corridor of the castle as opposed to the library or gallery - Arthur used it to gently cover her body, saying a prayer as he did so.

  
With a heavy heart he turned on his heel, leapt over the swords and left the girl behind, continuing in his mission to get to the throne room as fast as his legs would carry him. Nothing would stop him and anyone that came his way would be met with magic far out of their imagination and control.

  
He would not let his King suffer the same fate as the innocent serving girl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

            Alfred had been pacing the throne room when the warning bell sounded. His thoughtful silence was shattered, plans and pictures in his head cracked and smashed. Instantly his eyes flickered upward to the ceiling to where the noise was coming from, listening to its louds chimes of warning. It was so loud he could almost feel the vibrations under his feet.

Had it been possible, Alfred was sure that his heart would have dropped from his body to the floor and rolled away. Azure blue eyes slowly lowered from the ceiling to the intricately designed grand doors of the throne room that closed him in. He had specifically asked to be left alone, so he could think in peace without the eyes of his guards watching him and his every move. Now he was left to question if the people he had sent away were in danger. Were they out there in danger when they could have been in here with him? Granted, Ivan was most definitely coming this way so perhaps sending them away had been a good idea.

Ivan was smart and daring but daring enough to invade his castle in the middle of the night? Alfred didn’t believe he would even think of such a plan never mind actually carry it out. He was left to wonder how the Clubs had even made their way into his Kingdom without being seen in the first place. Ivan had magic - that was no secret – who knows what he could have done.

Alfred thought of security issues but he knew that it had to be impossible. Spades was the most powerful of the four kingdoms; to go against it was a huge risk in itself but to quite literally come banging on the front doors? Ballsy. The castle was impenetrable to those who were unwelcomed. How did they make it in without detection or warning? Only one answer formed in the forefront of Alfred’s whirling thoughts – there was a traitor amongst them.

Alfred had no time to ponder the identity of such a felon, instead pushing it from his brain and rushing to the long wooden table in the centre of the room. Currently covering it was a large map of the four kingdoms, figurines placed upon it here and there. He and Arthur had stared at this map for weeks upon weeks, discussing and mapping out the best way to bring this quarrel with the Clubs to an end with as little casualties as possible. So far things were not proceeding in their favour and Alfred was certain things were about to get much worse as everything they had feared was coming true.

Instead of being out on the field, Ivan had brought the battle to them. There were bound to be more Spade casualties – people were sleeping, they were not armed for battle. Ivan had the advantage.

Taking one last long glance at the map, Alfred memorise the positions of his plans before throwing his arms out and knocking everything over. Figurines fell over, some even flying off the table, sprawling across the map as if they had never once held perfect formation. He grabbed several bundles of parchment off the table and tore at the paper, shredding them like a madman into unreadable strips. If Ivan was coming anywhere in this castle it would be here and Alfred couldn’t risk him seeing a single word of their plans of attack. Even if the war they had planned for was out the window and a new threat had arisen, plans could be postponed and used later in life should Ivan choose to be a thorn in his side even when he’s old and grey.

Not that any of it mattered. By the end of the night Alfred knew that one of them would walk away and the other wouldn’t. Either Spades would win or they would lose. A battle was inevitable. Outside the sounds of swords clashing together and shouting alerted Alfred that confrontation was near. He swallowed back the thick lump in his throat and quickly thought of Arthur, hoping beyond hope that his husband was alright.

Darting to the throne, he jumped the small steps and pulled out his sword, observing the way the sword shimmering in the moonlight and the way the blue sapphires seemed to sparkle at him. It was heavy in his hand but a good, familiar heavy, comfortable and ready as he stood between the King and Queen thrones. He was ready to protect his kingdom, even if it meant a fight to the death.

Although prepared, Alfred couldn’t deny that he jumped when the doors crashed open, Ivan striding into the room like the dramatic King that he was. The doors closed behind him and quietened off the sound of battle outside, Ivan leaving his men with what Alfred presumed to be his knights. Alfred hoped they were handling themselves alright too.

Ivan was a tall, well-built man with a dark aura that had never been there when the pair had met as children. Once upon a time they were friends, destined to rule two kingdoms in alliance however that had not come to pass. When Alfred was barely a teenager and after a life altering event for them both (an event which Alfred chose never to speak off), Ivan became a boy of dark and twisted emotions, so much so that Alfred could barely recognise him as the shy child that he had once known.

Never the less, Alfred had made his efforts to be on good terms with King Ivan, for the kingdoms’ sake, however Ivan wanted nothing more than blood. In return Alfred had found that his anger too had grown over the years, building and bubbling until he found himself wanting nothing but the same.

It had to end.

Violet eyes seemed to almost glow in the darkness with an evil glimmer as they locked onto Alfred, a smirk pulling the King’s lips upwards as he finally laid eyes upon his treasure.

“Ivan what a surprise! You know it’s pretty rude to invade someone’s home like this, especially at such late hours.” Alfred did as he always did; taunted the older King. Ivan’s eye twitched and Alfred only grinned as he twirled his sword skilfully in his hands, silently proving a point to Ivan that he was ready for battle and more than happy to use his sword should he need to.

“It seems that you have a bit of a security problem. Isn’t this castle supposedly impenetrable?” Ivan chuckled, a dark icy laugh that crawled over Alfred’s skin and sent shivers down his spine. All sense of play and teasing had been drawn out of him and he wanted nothing more than to get down to business. He gave no answer, his lips sealed, knowing that if he did so it would only be giving into Ivan’s games. He had known Ivan long enough to know better than to play into a game he didn’t know the rules of.

The King of Clubs sauntered into the room, taking his time and eyeing the table as he passed.

“Been busy have we?”

“Perhaps.”

“Oh, come now Alfred. You know you’re _dying_ to say something,” Ivan grinned, eyes flickering back up to Alfred whose scowl deepened in response. He nodded, raising his sword threateningly as he descended down the stairs toward Ivan, the Club King’s teeth bearing in a smile that was almost one of excitement.

“You’re right. Get out of my kingdom.”

**XxXxXxXxXx**

People were screaming, swords were clashing and blood was being spilled. Servants were running for their lives, fleeing in a desperate attempt to avoid the bloodshed happening around them within the castle walls. Bodies of men began to line the floors as the battle intensified, Ivan’s men holding back no barriers and all Arthur could do was run past the corpses of people he once knew and help as he went.

He couldn’t stop to help the majority. He had a job to do and that was to keep the King safe. It far outweighed any other battle around him. Yao had told him that Ivan was on his way there and Arthur was doing his best but he knew it was impossible to beat him. He knew that by the time he reached the throne room Ivan would already have Alfred in a battle and Arthur dreaded the moment he would open those doors and see where they were in that fight. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his King in his own castle – it would destroy him. Exactly as Ivan wanted it to.

Thankfully the throne room wasn’t far now, his strides growing wider and although his legs burned they pushed him on with a fire that only grew stronger the closer he drew. The fight was worse here: Ivan’s men everywhere engaged in battle with Spade warriors everywhere he looked and trying to get at him when they spotted him. Luckily his men were able to keep them pinned in combat so Arthur could speed past without much trouble until he came to one particular corridor, voices sounding too familiar that his legs automatically brought him to a stop once more.

He turned, eyes widening slightly when he saw his three brothers fighting in an intense battle close by. They were severally outnumbered, multiple Club soldiers surrounding them and doing their best to get an angle on them, but his brothers were attacking and defending in sync. Protecting each other and attacking the enemy at the same time, their swords skilfully twirling in their hands as if they weighed nothing.

Arthur had seen them train like this in the courtyard, together and as a unit for if a moment would ever come when they would need to work as a team. He was rather astounded that it was working. He’d never seen it work in training and, as one would expect from brothers, they didn’t exactly get along all the time. Arthur appeared to peer in at the worst moment, his eyes landing on his eldest brother and head knight Alistair just as a Club soldier rammed their sword through his shoulder.

Instantly he cried out in pain but refused to drop his sword, passing it to his left hand and jabbing the hilt in the soldiers face. The two of them stumbling away from each other as Alistair once more screamed thought gritted teeth as the sword was violently torn away from his shoulder.

“No!” Arthur yelled, stepped forward and accidentally letting out a surge of power that bypassed his brothers and sent the Club soldiers flying to the other end of the hall in a heap of groans, weapons and armour. He would have moved to his brother’s aid but upon seeing their startled glances found that he couldn’t, his thoughts flying back to Alfred and what he would look like if this is what soldiers were doing to someone as insignificant as a knight.

All three of them were clearly shocked by the turn of events, eyes looking over Arthur and panting heaving from the fight. They all had several cuts and bruises and Alistair was hunched slightly as he held his wounded shoulder but he said nothing as he gave Arthur a purely grateful look – one Arthur had not seen before.

No words were exchanged as Arthur gave them a quick nod and took off again, leaving his brothers behind; he knew they were more than capable of taking care of themselves and he trusted them to take care of each other too. They were fully trained knights and had been involved in many battles over the years. As with all his knights, Arthur trusted them to do their duties and protect his people.

Rushing down a spiral staircase and a few more corridors after that, he finally reached the throne room, relief rushing over him upon seeing the magnificent double doors. However, he was not alone. A woman was stood guarding the doors clad in silver and green amour, a large sword held tightly in her hand and swinging by her legs as she walked. Arthur didn’t fail to notice the way the tip was shining red. No bodies or blood were in sight meaning she had had to fight her way here but had not fought anyone around the doors and everything seemed oddly silent apart from the distant sound of swords clashing echoing from inside the throne room.

The noise alone was enough to make Arthur’s stomach lurch, his eyes locking onto the doors in horror. His King was just beyond those doors battling for his life. If Arthur couldn’t get in there Spades would be lost. Alfred couldn’t win without him – sure he had power in magnitudes and he was highly talented in hand to hand combat but Ivan possessed the power of magic. If he chose to use that, Alfred didn’t stand a chance. Arthur was the magical assistance that Alfred needed. They were a team.

Quickly the woman guarding the door noticed him, her caramel brown hair tied back into a high ponytail however strands had fallen free around her face from the battle so far and were sticking to her brow. To say she had battled her way thought his forces and reached the throne room she looked fairly unscathed proving all the more she was a powerful force to be reckoned with. Arthur didn’t want to fight her – he didn’t want to injure a fellow Queen - but at this point he didn’t have a choice. It was her or Alfred and in the end his kingdom was more important than his relations with the Queen of Clubs.

“Go away Arthur, this isn’t out fight,” She said, mossy green eyes glancing over to the Spade Queen as she took up a defensive position in front of the doors he was so desperate to get through. He would have used magic to simply move her out the way and blast the doors open but he needed to save it as much as he could for his plan to work. He couldn’t jeopardise a plan months in the making when he knew it was the only way to save Alfred’s life.

“Liz, you know I can’t do that,” Arthur sighed, walking further down the corridor and watching carefully every movement the other Queen made, including the way she adjusted the sword in her hands so she was ready for the war that was about to start between them. If he could, Arthur would do his best to avoid it but even he knew that deep down Elizaveta would be inconvincible. She was loyal and would follow her King’s orders even if she thought them mad. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least give her the chance.

“Don’t do this Liz; I’ll beg if I have to. Are you really going to let my King die just because yours has a grudge?”

“Arthur, you can’t persuade me.”

“Alfred isn’t his father! He had nothing to do with Ivan’s sister! He’s mad man!”

“Don’t you dare insult my King!” Elizaveta yelled over him, eyes burning daggers into his but he could only stand his ground. Arthur knew somewhere in there that Liz agreed with him. She was dragged unwillingly into this hell and couldn’t go against her King – she had no option but to fight even if she believed that what she was fighting for wasn’t worth it. He could see it in her eyes. She didn’t want to harm anyone. She was a harmless Queen but her King ruled over her and her voice was nothing in comparison to his. If she defied him she might have well have taken Alfred’s place.

“Your King is insane! You know as well as I do. You knew Alfred as a child. Are you really going to let that boy die because you’re afraid of your own King?”

“Enough!” Arthur barely had time to react as the Club Queen charged at him, swinging her sword at his middle where he managed to step back just in time for the tip to miss him. It whistled past him and she went for him again but he twirled out her way, unsheathing his sword and turning just in time to block another attack. She was quick. The sound of metal smashing against metal was deafening to his ears but a sound he had heard many a time. He’d practiced hours on end with a sword and trained with the best; if Elizaveta thought she was getting an easy fight she thought wrong.

He got a few good swipes in, slicing at her armour and attempting to hit the areas where her defence missed. She too got in a few good attacks of her own, far more then Arthur and catching his coat several times, tearing at the fabric. Of course, he was defenceless with no armour to shield his skin or his vital organs for that matter after being caught unaware he was much more vulnerable to critical hits than his rival. Liz was going at him with everything she had, a crazed look in her eye as she viciously attacked the Spade Queen and made the most of his rare vulnerability.

Arthur let out a pained cry when her sword reached his skin, tearing through his shirt and waistcoat like it was nothing and slicing the skin underneath. He stumbled back and instantly looked down to see his white shirt soaking with red and his waist coat darkening in colour. Luckily it had only been a swipe and not a stab but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. He couldn’t linger on it too long however as Liz was straight back at him with another attack, giving him no room for error.

Each time she attacked Arthur couldn’t help but think he was wasting time. Every minute fighting with Elizaveta was a minute wasted in saving Alfred.

He was good with a sword but magic was his strongest form of attack, he certainly wasn’t going to get anywhere without it – Elizaveta was much more skilled with a sword. She wielded the weapon as if it were nothing more than a feather to her, matching Arthur’s defences and working her way around them. She learnt his strategy quickly and built up her own until with one swift movement Arthur’s sword was yanked from his grasp and he was sent to the ground with it.

He hit the stone hard and groaned upon landing on his wound, rolling to a side as Elizaveta stabbed her sword at him. She screamed as she went for him, this time Arthur rolling quickly out the way staring with wide eyes as the silver sword clattered against the stone beside his face. He was losing and if he wasn’t careful the Club Queen would end him before he even had a chance to see Alfred let alone attempt to save him from Ivan’s grasp.

Before Liz had time to lift her sword from the floor Arthur pressed his palm against it, muttering a few words and watching as the floor around the sword swallowed up the silver, climbing it like ivy slightly so that it’s owner was unable to remove it. She tried her best, tugging on the handle with all her might in a feeble attempt to pull it free but was unsuccessful; it was well and truly stuck as if the ground had been laid with the sword already set in it.

Whilst distracted Arthur used the time to kick her ankle, knocking her legs from underneath her and scrambling to his feet as she tumbled to the floor. Using his magic to his advantage and trying his best not to over use it, he pulled the sword free of the stone easily not watching as the stone set to normal as he hurried over to the throne room doors. Just as Elizaveta got to her feet and struggled to race after him he pulled the doors open just enough to force himself in the small gap he had made, stabbing Elizaveta’s sword into the wooden doors and jamming them shut behind him.

Her sword reverberated in the wood as she banged violently on the doors in outrage, doing her best to get in and screaming in anger, but Arthur only took a deep breath and turned around to face the carnage behind him.

The throne room was in ruins.

The long table that had once held weeks’ worth of plans was now covered in shredded parchment and figurines that Arthur had moved this way and that way were scattered, some even on the floor, with no purpose. The wood had several deep indents in it clearly from where it had come in the crossfire and the map of the four kingdoms was nothing more that scratches and tears.

The moonlight pooled in from the large windows lining the long room and cast shadows down to where the two Kings were battling for survival. They stood up around the thrones, swords swinging forcefully with the intent to kill. Arthur could clearly see the blood staining both parties but Alfred appeared to have a bad wound to his right arm, the sleeve of his coat almost torn clean off. He was bleeding in several other places too but there seemed to be the worst, the blood dripping down his arm and affecting the power in his fight – obviously Ivan would wound his fighting arm.

The wound on Arthur’s chest demanded attention but he refused to give in, not now. He could feel the blood soaking his clothing, a horrible feeling but it was also a feeling he had felt before. The terror that clutched at his heart, however, as Alfred fell from the steps of the throne to the ground was completely new to him.

He screamed as loud as he could possibly get his voice in that moment the instant Ivan rose his sword above his head, the Club King hesitating just as Arthur hoped he would as if he were not expecting to be interrupted. Violet eyes sent a dark glare Arthur’s way to which Arthur returned with an equally as dark and threatening look, his eyes almost swirling with the poison he wanted to shove down Ivan throat. Ivan almost looked surprised to see him and Arthur had the suspicion that in Ivan’s plan he was supposed to be dead already. Too bad because he was very much alive.

Behind Ivan, Arthur could see Alfred slowly trying to reach out for his sword that was lying on the ground just out of reach. If he could crawl across the ground to it without Ivan noticing he would be able to grab it once more. Arthur really hoped that Alfred wouldn’t be so stupid.

Without warning, Ivan freed up one of his hands flicking his wrist toward Arthur and sending all of the paper that was once on the floor and table towards Arthur with immense speed. It blinded him for a minute, the Queen’s arms rising up to defend his face, but a minute was all King Ivan needed. By the time Arthur’s arms had lowered Ivan had made his move, his sword coming down with a loud clank as it struck the floor, barely missing Alfred’s leg as the young King scrambled backwards just out the way with mere inches between blows.

Alfred’s sword remained motionless out of reach, silver blade shimmering in the pale light of the moon and with every strike of Ivan’s blade and every movement from Alfred it grew further and further away. Alfred was not only getting further from his sword but he was slowly backing himself into a corner where death was an inevitable option.

“This is for my sister!” Ivan growled and Arthur pushed himself away from the doors, slipping on the scraps of paper at first before he raced at full force toward the two Kings. His heart was beating so fast it felt like a drum in his ear, like the drums they used at executions. Maybe this was his own execution. Maybe he was running to his own death. Just as Ivan’s sword hurtled towards Alfred for a fatal blow Arthur dove between the pair of them, desperately reaching out a hand for Alfred.

The Spade King looked mortified but the instant Arthur’s hand latched onto Alfred’s clothing he used every ounce of magic he could to apperate – the two royals disappearing in a swirl of blue colour. This left Ivan’s sword to come into contact with nothing but the solid ground, the power behind his swing enough that upon hitting it his sword smashed into several sharp pieces and littered the spot where Alfred had once been.

Ivan stared at the empty space in confusion, looking around the throne room then back at the spot his enemy had once sat just as Elizaveta smashed through the doors with Yao forcibly dragged in behind her and pushed onto his knees. The silence in the room was deadly but the Spade Jack could do nothing but smile in relief upon seeing neither his King nor his Queen in the room. Their plan was successful. Not even the angered scream of King Ivan tearing through the Spade Castle could wipe the pure relief off his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ta-Da! Chapter 2 is here! Things got a little intense in this chapter aha.   
> I hope you enjoyed reading and, please, leave a review. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

            As with any apparition, it required a certain amount of power – a lot to be specific – and Arthur hadn’t fully had the time to properly think about their landing, the two Spade Royals falling out the air and landing hard upon a grassy hilltop. In the distance, their castle was nothing but a dark silhouette against the midnight sky, its lights small dots and spires dark lines on an already dark canvas.

The pair groaned and their wounds were prominent and well felt upon landing full force on them. Arthur sat up, putting a small amount of pressure on his abdomen and trying his very best to ignore the new pain pulsing from his left shoulder. He had known escaping without injury was highly unlikely, apperating without one even more so. He’d cut it too close to escape cleanly. A slice to the back of his shoulder would be an uncomfortable gift courtesy of Ivan for a few weeks but he could live with that. He’d much rather that and have Alfred breathing at his side than be unscathed and still be in that throne room holding Alfred’s lifeless body in his arms.

As Arthur stumbled to his feet, weak from apperating the both of them, he watched his King grunt and push himself to his feet also. He looked around in confusion, eyes glancing over the grass, bushes and trees before noticing that the palace he had stood in mere seconds ago was now over the other side of the kingdom. He held his hurt arm and mumbled a few words that Arthur couldn’t make out, the King clearly trying to understand the situation and quickly rounding on Arthur as the culprit of their unexplained scenery change.

The anger that appeared on Alfred’s face was exactly what Arthur was expecting but that didn’t mean he liked it, nor did he like the way that Alfred instantly accused him of ruining everything.

“Y-You have to take me back. I almost had him! You can’t give up the kingdom like that!”

“You almost died Alfred! Or do you not care about that?” Arthur argued, green eyes blinking in shock when Alfred strode over to him and took the front of his shirt in his fist and pulled Arthur upwards to his height so their faces were only inches from each other, the Queen balancing on the tips of his boots.

“I was fighting for my kingdom. You have no right to take me away from that. My brother is in that castle and you left him there to die! You selfish bastard!” Alfred yelled in his face and Arthur growled at him, pushing on his shoulders to force him off him.

However, Arthur’s magic, like with all magic wielders, was tied to his emotions and with the surge of using it on apparition it was active enough to not only shove Alfred off him but to send him flying backwards away from the Queen where he landed on the grass with a hard thud and rolled until he came to rest on his back. The King moaned in pain but Arthur didn’t listen, wouldn’t listen, and instead strode over to him and stood over him, one leg on either side of the King’s shoulder to keep him looking up and also make sure he remained on the floor.

“ _Your_ kingdom?” Arthur roared. “I just saved your life because it is my duty as Queen to protect you! We make the calls together Alfred and you were willing to put your life in jeopardy. What use are you to the kingdom if you’re dead?! Your brother is the one who asked me to do this so don’t you dare think I left him there of my own choice because you know what Alfred? You aren’t the only one with family in that castle. My brothers are fighting for their lives in that castle just as much as your brother is and I left them injured and hurt to protect you because you are the most important thing, so don’t you dare to even think that _I_ am the selfish one here.”

Arthur stood breathless above his husband, acidic green eyes glowering down at the fuming ocean blue ones beneath him before he stepped back over Alfred and walked away so that the other could stand. Once Alfred was on his feet he adjusted his glasses that had miraculously stayed perched on his nose, the Queen turning his back on him and refusing to look at him as he tried to calm down. He could feel Alfred’s eyes on his back and he knew that Alfred had noticed the very likely tear in his coat from Ivan’s sword but he doubted at this point he particularly cared. He knew Alfred and he knew that Alfred’s emotions were incredibly strong, with something like this his anger would blind absolutely any other feeling he had.

“You went behind my back?” Alfred asked, voice softer, calmer, and Arthur turned around to face him with a stern look on his face. He gave a single nod.

“There was a plan put into place that if your life was ever risked I was to get you out of that situation no matter the costs. Spades cannot lose you Alfred. You seem to think you’re invincible but you’re just as human as the rest of us. If you die then the kingdom loses every bit of hope that it had. I promised my people that I would serve this kingdom with its best interests at heart and that is what I am doing. Ivan can’t do anything whilst we live so we take this time to regroup, form a plan and take back what is ours. With us alive the people still have hope to cling to and at this moment that is all we can give them.”

Alfred’s eyes almost appeared to glow under the moonlight as the stars shimmered above them, Arthur only just noticing that one of the lenses in his glasses had cracked slightly in the corner, small lines like claws weaving across the glass but not obstructing his view of Alfred’s eyes. The air around them was silent, nothing but the sound of animals stirring in the trees close by could be heard. The ringing of the castle bells was just a far of memory and Arthur couldn’t bear to think about what would be happening to his council in that moment whilst he stood arguing with his husband.

Alfred took a deep breath, looking away for a moment but the minute they returned the look in those beautiful blue eyes was clear and intense. It was a look that would haunt Arthur for many weeks to come. The pure look of hatred sent chills down the Queen’s spine.

“I won’t ever forgive you for this Arthur.”

The King’s voice appeared to quiver as if he was fighting against his own words but he had said them away. They stayed still like stone for a minute and Arthur was certain that Alfred was waiting to capture his response. Did he want him to break down crying? Beg for forgiveness? But Alfred turned his back on him and began to walk away, heading down the hill in the direction of the castle. Arthur gave only a heavy sigh and nonchalantly waved his hand over in his King’s direction.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered and he truly was, watching as a cloud of white mist formed around Alfred’s head. The blond waved his hands around to try and clear the sudden fog from his face, trying to step out of it and turning to face Arthur when it followed him before his legs gave way and he fell to the ground. Arthur hated using sleeping spells, he found them unfair – especially to use in an argument - but he had no choice but to send Alfred to sleep.

The young King needed to sleep off his anger and let his wounds heal. If he began the long journey back to their castle with anger blinding his judgement he would walk directly into the Club’s waiting hands. Arthur hadn’t gone through the trouble to save him only for his husband to willingly walk back into their grasp.

Meadow green eyes gave the King a once over along with a light kick to check that he really was asleep. He looked content, face and body relaxed into a comfortable slumber; Arthur hadn’t seen Alfred look so innocent and calm in months. With the King asleep Arthur began to drag him toward the small hut hidden in the shadows not too far from their location.

Alfred was heavy and by the time Alfred was in the house and safely on the bed where he could sleep Arthur was exhausted. His wounds hurt, his legs burned and he so desperately wanted to close his eyes. Both of them would need to tend to their injuries and get some rest if they ever wanted to take back their castle.

A long and frustrating journey was on the way and Arthur had to mentally prepare himself for when Alfred woke. Right now, he hated him; Matthew had warned him that this would happen but still, Arthur didn’t think it would hurt so much to hear those words come from his husband’s lips.

He couldn’t think on that right now.

His own feelings had to play second best to the kingdom and for now his duty was to keep his King alive and retake his castle. That meant instead of sleeping like he knew Yao would have demanded he stayed awake and tended to Alfred’s wounds – bandaging them up and cleaning them with the supplies he found in the house. He hoped that eventually Alfred could come to see the reasoning behind his actions because if he didn’t? God help them.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

When Alfred came too he could hear to sound of gentle birdsong outside the window, blinding light streaming into the room through the curtains. It was bright and it hurt his eyes, squinting as he tried to adjust and pushing himself into a sitting position. Instantly sharp pain fired through his right arm and he took the weight off it immediately, looking down at it to see white bandages wrapped around his skin. He certainly hadn’t put himself in this position nor had he tended to his own wounds. The events of the previous night came flooding back to him and his stomach sank upon the thought of his brother. He didn’t dare to think of the things Ivan would be doing to him.

The Club King would be desperate to know where Alfred had disappeared to. Certainly, if anyone would know, Matthew would. He was the King’s twin brother after all. Alfred knew Matthew was strong but the images that came flashing to the forefront of his mind were not pleasant ones and he had to shake his head in order to rid himself of such violent thoughts.

Instead he looked around him.

The room was small, only just managing to squeeze in the double bed Alfred was sat on and an old looking dresser. The curtains were drawn shut but they were old and worn, letting the light flood into the room anyway. Several picture frames were lined up on top of the dresser along with a few old decrepit children’s toys but the frames were turned downwards, the images hidden from view.

His blue coat, waist coat, tie, and shirt were all folded neatly in a pile on the floor beside his bed despite the fact that they were torn in several places – very clearly Arthur’s handiwork. Beside him the bed was still very faintly warm and Alfred instantly began to worry upon seeing small spots of red across the white sheets.

The King sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, the caramel blond strands instantly settling back into position before his slipped his glasses back onto his nose from where he found them sitting on the bedside table. Clearly Arthur had tended to him very carefully during then night even if Alfred was still mad at him – even more so for forcibly sending him to sleep. Arthur had even gone to the measures of mending the crack within the lens of his glasses.

Slipping out the bed Alfred stretched out only one of his arms, leaving his wounded one alone for fear of making it bleed again. The morning chill was cool against his bare chest and he found that instead of going for his clothes curiosity had him walk to the dresser and the picture frames. He spotted instantly that everything had a thick layer of dust covering it however the picture frames had recent finger prints on them meaning they had been recently touched and, by the looks of the markings on the dresser, moved too.

The only reason Alfred didn’t pick them up was because he heard movement from outside the room which drew him away.

As soon as he opened the bedroom door it opened out into a small kitchen and dining area. A small dining table was sat in the centre with a few chairs positioned around it and a fireplace at the far side of the room was left empty and unused, the large comfy looking chairs beside it holding the mangled remains of Arthur’s coat and shirt.

He found the Queen stood not too far from the fireplace, shirtless and facing away from Alfred as he attempted to look over his shoulder in the mirror hung on the wall. Alfred internally winced as he saw the wound; it looked pretty bad and although Arthur was trying his best to clean it he couldn’t really reach the injury.

In fact, the more he looked at Arthur the more he noticed he was practically wrapped in bandages. He had white wrapped thickly around his torso tending to an injury Alfred hadn’t even noticed and then there was the obvious one that would need bandaging up on his shoulder if Arthur could ever get it cleaned up.

His ivory skin was stained red from where his shoulder had been bleeding and Arthur couldn’t wipe it away nor could he see it unless he was awkwardly turning his head to look in the mirror. It quickly dawned on Alfred that not all the blood on his clothing was his own.

“Here, let me do it,” Alfred said softly as he walked into the room. Arthur jumped around at the sudden sound of his voice, bloody cloth in hand and as Alfred’s drew closer his eyes narrowed.

“Why? So you can rub salt in it?” Alfred rolled his eyes and snatched the cloth from Arthur’s fingers before he had the chance to argue, the Queen huffing and turning around so that Alfred could tend to his wound. With careful touches he dabbed at the open wound in an attempt to clean it, wiping away all the blood that smeared over the Queen’s skin surrounding the wound also.

“Why don’t you just heal it?” Arthur sighed heavily at the question as Alfred remained focused on his shoulder, eyes lifting for a brief moment to the mirror where he met with Arthur’s bright eyes for a fleeting glance before returning to his job at hand.

“I tried. Ivan must have enchanted his and Elizaveta’s swords so that the wounds they left couldn’t be healed. Imagine how annoyed I was when I went to heal your arm and nothing happened.”

“Imagine how annoyed I was when I woke up and found out you drugged me.”

“I didn’t drug you.”

“You put me to sleep.”

“Oh hush up you make it sound worse that it is. It was a simple sleeping spell. You weren’t thinking straight and I had to stop you. Your wound would only have got worse had I not done so.” Arthur whined when Alfred dabbed a little too hard, pressing the cloth a little too roughly against the wound. The King muttered an apology and continued to wipe at his wound, removing it to get a good look at the injury now that it was clean and the bleeding had stopped.

“And you didn’t think to attend your own wounds first?” Alfred sighed heavily at his Queen’s antics but couldn’t say he was surprised. Arthur was surprisingly caring despite not looking like it. He was guarded, defensive and sometimes cold but he cared deeply for those he loved, easily putting them before himself even if it meant that his own pain and feelings were left behind. It’s what made Arthur a never-ending puzzle to Alfred – one that he would love forever, despite their arguments.

Arthur said nothing in response, allowing Alfred to patch him up. The King made sure his touch was gentle and feather light not wanting to cause Arthur any more pain, even when he demanded to take a look at Arthur’s other wound. Arthur explained that they were presents from the King and Queen of Clubs and that they would heal in no time – Alfred had a hard time believing that considering the wounds were made so that no magic could heal them.

Seeing the pain Arthur had suffered through just to get to him the previous night made Alfred feel somewhat guilty.

He had said nothing but harsh words that he would never be able to take back about the choices his husband had made when in reality Arthur had pushed his body to its limits and risked his own life just to save his. It was truly honourable. Yet Alfred couldn’t find it within him to forgive Arthur. He felt betrayed and his trust in Arthur had been severally damaged, like Arthur had come along with a hammer and smashed in all his fragile windows of trust. He would need time to even look at Arthur without fury behind his eyes.

“Where are we anyway?” Alfred asked, trying to break the awkward silence and shake his thoughts of the dark path he knew they were heading down. Arthur handed him a blood free tunic and slipped on one of his own, the King instantly picking up that the clothing Arthur was sorting out on the table in front of him was not the flashy attire a royal would usually wear.

Soft green eyes stopped sorting for a moment to look around the kitchen with an almost sad look, avoiding Alfred’s eyes as he was watched.

“A safe house. On the edge of the kingdom. No one will think to look for us here; no one has lived here in years. Yao and I set it up weeks ago, brining fresh clothing and supplies we would need if we were to arrive injured like we did,” explained Arthur as he gave Alfred’s arm a distant look, staring at the bandages before they were covered by the pale blue tunic he’d handed to the King.

Alfred nodded despite knowing full well there was more to the story than Arthur was letting on. He had a sneaking suspicion as to why Arthur wondered the house with such familiarity, why the picture frames had recently been turned downwards and why Arthur looked at the white washed walls with a sense of grief. He didn’t press, however, knowing that now was clearly not the time and Arthur wasn’t ready to shed lightly upon the situation. They had greater matters at hand than some house on the outskirts of the city that held some meaning to Arthur.

Instead he copied his Queen and dressed into the rest of the clothing he was given until he was clothed from head to toe in an outfit that would be found worn by any man wondering the markets on the outskirts of Spades.

His tunic was a little baggy but the brown waist coat he pulled over the top made it fit a little better and so everything hugged in all the right places. His comfortable King’s trousers were switched for some of a similar style and colour although they much less expensive in material. Alfred thought about complaining about how they itched against his skin but decided against it for fear that Arthur would quiet literally throw him down the hill again. A pair of tattered leather brown ankle boots protected his feet and overall Alfred felt exactly how he presumed he would have had he not been a prince his entire life.

Arthur wore an outfit similar; an ivory tunic that was clearly a little too big for him was hidden beneath an old leather brown jacket which he left hung open over the top, a small belt hooked around his waist over the top of his tunic to keep it to his body and showing off his smaller frame. His trousers were identical to Alfred’s, chocolate brown fabric hugging his legs and worn at the knees but were tucked into a pair of battered old boots that reached halfway up his shin. Most distinctly, Arthur wore a small, deep blue, neck scarf around his neck– almost like the bow he wore as Queen.

When Arthur turned to face him Alfred was pleasantly stunned. His husband looked rather attractive even if he was in scruffy clothing a royal such as himself would never be caught alive in. Naturally it didn’t accentuate his body like his royal attire did but Arthur appeared comfortable in his new clothing, his eyes standing out against the dark blue of his scarf.

“What?” He asked with a scowl when he realised that Alfred’s eyes were watching him.

“Nothing, I just feel like I know that scarf from somewhere,” Alfred mused as he eyed up the garment. Arthur fingers automatically reached up and touched the fabric that was mentioned, humming and nodding.

“I was wearing it the first time we met. I’m impressed you remember it.”

“I remember everything about you.”

The room fell into silence as Alfred realised that he had said his thoughts aloud – the words not meant for Arthur to hear – yet Arthur smiled gently with hopeful eyes. They quickly lost their light when Alfred cleared his throat and looked away, brushing down the clothing that felt wrong on his body.

He was used to the soft silks and expensive fabrics that the castle could provide – not shabby clothes made for the less wealthy. Perhaps that made him a snob but Alfred couldn’t change his heritage. He was practically born wearing a crown already on his head. He supposed this would be a little insight into what his people wore on a daily basis and Alfred was all about getting to know his kingdom – even if there were more pressing matters to attend to, it didn’t mean he couldn’t multitask.

As if sensing the desperate need to change the mood, Arthur also cleared his throat and pulled one of two cloaks hung up on the wall beside the front door into his hands. Avoiding Alfred’s gaze he looked over the cloak in his grasp as he spoke, speaking to it rather than to Alfred.

“We can’t be seen. If we intend to retake our places we need to be subtle. I doubt bright blue clothing will help us blend in.”

“That will take forever! If people know who we are then they will be more willing to help us forward. They will take us home!”

“And news will spread to Ivan that we’ve been spotted and he will send an army of troops to capture us. You’ll be playing right into his hands Alfred,” sighed Arthur as he threw the cloak in his direction. Alfred refrained from rolling his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from arguing further as he caught the garment with ease.

It was clear they were both on very different pages of the same book and the tension between them was thick. If Yao was here Alfred could just picture him forcing them to sit down and talk it out, acting like a father and forcing the pair of them to sort out their differences. But he wasn’t here and they were on their own. He supposed that he was mainly to blame, Arthur was obviously trying his best but Alfred was angry. Every look at Arthur was a reminder - a constant visual as to what had happened without his consent. He couldn’t help it.

Blue eyes looked down into the cloak in his hands; it was midnight blue in colour, as was the one Arthur was securing around his shoulders, with silver buckles to hold it in place. He had to admit, Arthur’s plan sounded solid and reasonable, as always. It was clearly the best they were going to get out of their current situation.

Walking straight back into Ivan’s waiting embrace wasn’t something Alfred wasn’t overly enthusiastic to do.

Arthur made quick work of putting on his cloak, the long material hanging down to the top of his boots and floating out behind him as he walked around the kitchen. He gathered up his bloodied and torn clothing into his arm before heading off into the bedroom, eyeing Alfred and his cloak in silent instruction as he passed.

The King secured his cloak to his shoulders and adjusted the hood, knowing full well he would be using it a lot. They would have to get through the kingdom and back to the castle without being spotted or alerting Ivan’s men that would more than likely be patrolling the streets in search of them. It would be a long and incredibly tough journey but Alfred would do anything to get his kingdom back out the hands of the Club King – even if he wasn’t fully on board with the plan they were going with.

Arthur reappeared in the room not more than a minute later, Alfred’s clothes piled atop his own in his arms. He scrunched them up and stuffed them - under the watchful stare of Alfred - into a satchel that had seen better days, slinging it haphazardly on his shoulder and faced the King. Alfred wanted to pout about the way his things had been treated but knew there was no hope for it; torn, bloodied and a huge give away there was only one thing that they could do with it now and that was to toss it somewhere.

“Ready?” He asked. Blue eyes met green and Alfred hesitated, unsure if he really was ready before giving Arthur a short nod. He had to be ready. This was for Spades. This was for him. This was Alfred’s kingdom, Ivan had his own. Arthur returned the nod and pulled up his hood, placing it over his hair and opening the front door which he courteously held open for Alfred – always the perfect gentleman even when Queen. Alfred rolled his eyes but passed through anyway, pulling up his hood and hiding himself away from the kingdom that he loved.

If they were going to do this, it was the one and only way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Who doesn’t love a bit of angst, huh? Alfred said some harsh things there but he’s a grumpy boy right now. Poor Arthur, he does try his best. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!
> 
> (I have no idea why its doubling up my authors notes from the first chapter. I don't know how to get rid of it either so I apologise)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

            The Spade castle seemed desolate, silence clouding over the servants that were forced under new rule as they cleaned up the castle. On their hands and knees they scrubbed the floors of the blood of their own, tears gathering in their eyes as they were forced to mourn the ones they had lost under the watch of their attackers. Without the King and Queen there was no hustle and bustle, no light or smiles, no songs or good passing – just terrorised men and women scuttling about the castle desperate not to see the cause of such devastation.

Down in the dungeons the mood was grim; cells that had remained empty for months now packed with loyal followers and believers to the Spade King and Queen. Yao was one of many, silently sat in the cell waiting for anything to happen. He sat on the old, uncomfortable bed staring at the ground. His thoughts were alight with ideas and hopes – all of which were resting on his fellow royal’s shoulders.

With him, Matthew Ace of Spades sat on the floor. He hugged his knees to his chest as his back rested against the cold stone of the dungeon walls. His lavender eyes watched the iron bars that held them prisoner, the small rays of sunlight that managed to filter into the gloomy cells reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. Guards stood beside the doors to their cells, watching over them and making sure that none of them made any threatening moves. Surprisingly, the only one who had made any sort of gesture towards the guards had been Matthew.

Usually quiet and reserved, Matthew had been in their face for most of the night before he’d given up to attempt to get some sleep on the floor. That only proceeded to make him grumpier when he awoke in the morning, now resorting to staring at the bars as if they would melt under his gaze. Yao assumed that being held within the cells he had helped build was not a scenario Matthew had pictured.

The sounds of approaching footsteps caught everyone’s attention, eyes turning to see who would greet them on the other side of the bars. Crammed in the cell opposite Matthew and Yao were Arthur’s brothers – Alistair, Connor and Dylan. The sound had Dylan, the youngest of the three, halting in his feeble attempts to tend to Alistair’s wound with only the fabric of his shirt and the water provided to them that morning.

It was quickly revealed that the owner of the steps was indeed the Queen of Clubs herself, striding down the corridor and coming to a stop outside Matthew and Yao’s cell with two guards glued to her side. She gave the man outside their cell a single nod of which he responded by opening up the door. Matthew instantly got to his feet as did Yao, the younger Ace standing several inches taller than the Jack. Both silently questioned what it were the Queen was doing down in the dungeons, her green eyes flickering between the two before finally landing and focusing on Matthew.

“The blond one,” She said before turning on her heel and walking swiftly out the dungeons without another word. Yao gave Matthew a startled look as one of the guards entered the cell, gripping Matthew’s arm and dragging him out the small space to chain his wrists behind his back before he could even put up a fight. Violet eyes looked back to see the Jack was clearly worried about him, brown eyes wide.

“I’ll be fine,” He assured Yao and everyone else locked away in the dungeons giving him worried glances. The Ace was quickly shoved out the dungeons before he could say anything else to his companions and was roughly forced up the stairs. “I can walk you know,” he muttered yanking his arms free of one of the guards grip and giving him a glare that dared him to grab it again. He left the others behind and appeared at the top of the stairs into the familiarity of the castle walls.

Elizaveta was stood waiting for him, eyes silently looking him over before leading the small group in the direction of the throne room. Matthew could have laughed at his escorts; Ivan really thought he needed 4 armed men and his Queen to lead him to him? Matthew was almost flattered.

He was positioned in the centre, men blocking him from each angle but giving him enough room to walk. He stood slightly taller than the rest, eyes peering around their heads and trying his best to give the servants that they passed a sign that everyone down in the gloomy cells was alright and that there was still hope left residing in their royals. After all, the servants had no idea what had actually happened to Alfred or Arthur.

Heads turned as he passed, regulars of the castle watching in horror as their Ace was lead towards the throne room where Matthew knew Ivan would be lying in wait for him. Elizaveta strode ahead of him with confidence although several times she led them down the wrong corridor, hushing Matthew with narrowed eyes and red ears each time he snickered at her mistakes.

Putting all circumstances aside, Matthew actually rather liked Elizaveta. Alone she was a kind, well-respected woman with a caring personality but her loyalty to her King and their kingdom was to blame for Matthew’s current situation. Had Elizaveta stood up to her own King maybe he wouldn’t have attacked under such circumstances and would have approached Alfred fairly. Matthew found it cowardly that to gain an advantage Ivan had to sneak around and catch them unaware.

As soon as they arrived at the throne room Elizaveta wasted no time in throwing open the doors and allowing her men to shove Matthew inside. He grunted as he was herded into the centre of the room before violently thrown to his knees, arms remaining chained behind his back and jostling with every movement. An overwhelming sense of sickness washed over Matthew as he looked up to see Ivan sat comfortably in his brother’s throne, his green robes stark against the soft blues of the castle and showing he did not belong where he sat.

“How dare you sit where he sat!” Matthew yelled, swallowing a small cry of pain when Elizaveta kicked him hard in the chest.

“You speak to your King with respect!” She hissed, green eyes ablaze as she waved off all the other guards in the room watching Matthew double over and gasp for the air that had knocked out of him. With the clanging of chainmail, the guards filed out the room until only the Club King and Queen plus Matthew were left in the room. He was a little surprised by the Queen’s small outburst considering they had once got on rather well but by no means did that mean Matthew was going to sit and swallow someone pretending to be his brother.

“He’s not my King.”

Ivan rose from the throne immediately and sauntered over to Matthew; Elizaveta silently backing away from the Ace as her King slowly began to circle him. Matthew could honestly say that the dungeons felt warmer than the throne room in that moment. Ivan seemed to carry a cold air with him, the blond supressing a shiver as Ivan’s purposely heavy footsteps sounded around him.

“I sit on the throne of Spades and still you refuse to call me your King?”

“You will never be the King of Spades.”

“Now, Matthew. I thought we were friends?” Ivan asked childishly, stopping and crouching down in front of Matthew. The Ace held his head high, refusing to flinch even when Ivan’s icy fingers gripped his chin tightly and made sure to hold him in position so their eyes wouldn’t leave each other’s. Matthew glared at him with such vigour and hatred that Ivan seemed genuinely shocked at the frosty reception that he was receiving.

“That was before you tried to kill my brother.”

Ivan returned the glare and pushed Matthew’s chin to the side, forcing him to look in that direction before he rose back to his feet. He loomed over Matthew as if he were looking down upon a pile of dirt, clasping his hands behind his back and walking back and forth in front of the younger male.

“If you don’t want this to end badly then I highly suggest you do everything I ask of you. Tell me where your brother and his husband are and I will let you go without harm. Refuse and every single man, woman and child that hides their location from me will face horrors you can’t begin to imagine. Do I make myself clear?” Ivan stopped directly in front of Matthew once more, using the long silver staff that had appeared in his hands with a club symbol on the end to lift Matthew’s head so their eyes could meet again.

Matthew shook his head off the staff and held his head of his own accord although it was impossible to remove the worry in his eyes as he thought about his kingdom’s villagers. Ivan was willing to hurt innocent bystanders, mere children, in his maniacal quest just to get to Alfred?

“I don’t know where he is. No one does. You can hurt me all you like but I don’t know where they are. The only person that knows their location is Arthur.”

Apparently Ivan didn’t accept this as a reasonable answer and the staff that he was holding quickly came down at Matthew’s face, hitting him in the jaw with an echoing slap. The Ace bit his lip to hold in a whimper, his cheek stinging from where the sharp edges of the staff had caught at his skin. Ivan’s eyes seemed to burn down on him now and Matthew could see that all sense of reasoning had flow directly out the window.

“Keep at this and this is going to be a very long day for you indeed.”

“I can only tell you what I know and I don’t know where he is. You can torture me, you can beat me down, you can ask every single one of us locked up in that dungeon right now and no one will give you an answer. Not even Yao knows where they went, so really, the only thing you are doing here is wasting time,” Matthew explained, trying his best to get his point across.

He was a reasonable man, even with the craziest of people. He tried to see the good in everyone and give them a second chance when they deserved it. Despite Ivan’s actions, Matthew would put all his cards on the table just so that the others wouldn’t get hurt. Alfred wouldn’t want his friends and family getting beaten for him, so if Matthew could prevent it then some of the guilt he knew Alfred could be feeling would lift once he returned. Of course, he knew as the Ace he would get the first beating – he was the King’s twin brother after all. Yao would be up next he assumed and, if desperate, then Ivan presumably turn to Arthur’s brothers.

“I’ll try this again,” Ivan sighed heavily. “Where is Alfred?”

“Go to hell!”

_SLAP_

Matthew groaned as the staff was whacked into his ribs this time, falling forward as he tried to regain the breath knocked out of him again. So being reasonable wasn’t going to work. Ivan was clearly past that. Matthew was also past it, he hated Ivan with every fibre of his being. He didn’t want to play nice anymore; he just wanted to get this over with. Ivan hadn’t brought him here to ask questions. He had brought him here to do what he couldn’t do the night before.

“Leave us,” Ivan’s voice spoke out to Elizaveta whom Matthew heard leave the room immediately, leaving him alone with the Club King. Some support she was. Matthew’s stomach dropped but he knew he could take it. He would do anything to save his brother’s life, and if this would give him more time then he would endure any suffering that Ivan planned for him. Alfred would do the same and he trusted that Arthur knew what he was doing. He just hoped beyond hope that Alfred hadn’t turned completely against Arthur for his actions.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Arthur had hoped that a good sleep would have cooled off Alfred’s temper a little but it seemed he’d put a little too much hope into that idea. Instead, the King was stewing over his anger, walking in silence with his head held down in thought. He refused to speak to Arthur nor would he look at him but Arthur supposed it could be a good thing. If neither of them were talking then at least their voices wouldn’t be recognised once they entered town.

The only conversation the two had shared since leaving the house on the hill was that of Arthur’s plan and that had been purely one sided. He had explained to Alfred that they were only heading into the small town for a short moment and then they would retreat to the forests and go around the outskirts of Spades where they were least likely to be detected. A long, tedious journey but the safest one they had.

Walking straight into town was dangerous and risky, but it was riskier to have their royal attire on their person – if they were found with the King and Queen’s bloodied clothing they would be arrested immediately without any guards needed to even see their faces and would be handed straight into Ivan’s hands. Luckily, Arthur knew just the people who would rid them of such clothing without speaking of their identity or royal blood to a soul – the Queen trusted them and was heavily reliant upon their agreement.

With the hoods of their cloaks covering their heads, Arthur led them down into the small village just a short walk from the house they had spent the night in.

Not many people lived in the small area and those that did were always friendly and walked the streets with a smile. They were going about their morning duties as Arthur and Alfred entered, the Queen leading his King down the back alleys and behind the houses so they were less likely to be noticed. As with any small village of few people, strangers were almost instantly picked up upon. Everyone knew each other and newcomers were easy to pick out amongst those you saw every day. Alfred followed without words; head remaining low and his eyes following the floor and Arthur’s feet.

Occasionally he would look around and take in the sights of such a village that he hardly had the opportunity to see. He had been harboured within the castle since the moment of his birth, travelling this far out of the kingdom was something he’d rarely ever done. The most time he’d spent in such barren villages was when he was travelling through them to get to other kingdoms for important meetings with his fellow King’s. Arthur thought that had the circumstance been different Alfred might have been interested in what his people lived like this far away from the high life of the castle.

As they were walking between two small houses, Arthur stopped and almost had Alfred run straight into the back of him. The Queen sighed and turned to Alfred, his throat dry as he tried to swallow back the hurt he felt seeing Alfred refuse to lift his head.

“Al…”

“What?”

“I know you don’t even want to look at me right now and I understand that you probably hate me too but I need you to listen. Can you do that?” Arthur asked, eyes lighting up a little when Alfred’s head lifted and his blue eyes met with green. He couldn’t believe he was having to talk to his own husband as if he were a small child and Alfred didn’t seem to appreciate it either but it got his attention. He could see the King was struggling with his emotions and he could practically feel the hostility radiating from him, but Arthur had a job to do and if was going to be the only one thinking straight then so be it.

“I don’t hate you…” Alfred mumbled, readjusting his hood on his head and dropping his gaze. Arthur’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles at such simple words that meat so much to him after the previous night.

“That’s a relief,” He chuckled, trying to make light of the situation but failing and only proceeding to make things awkward. He cursed himself for his lack of people skills and wished that he could make Alfred himself again; use magic or something to turn him into the man he was before Ivan ever became a problem. He was the one who made light of any situation, he made people smile with hardly any effort and people adored him.

Arthur felt wrong trying to take his place.

To shift the awkwardness Arthur shook his head and returned to the topic at hand.

“Around this corner is a house that we are going to approach. I know this is very selfish of me to even ask but I need you to trust me. Just let me do the talking and once we are inside I will explain everything, alright?” Alfred nodded silently and Arthur clenched his jaw to get rid of the feeling of the desperate need to hug his husband. Now more than ever he wanted to hold Alfred – he missed his touch and the way they fit together snuggly in every embrace.

Instead Arthur turned on his heel and strode out onto the street. His cape fluttered out behind him with his steps and he could hear Alfred close behind him as they turned and approached a small house. The King stood behind his Queen as Arthur knocked on the door, the two waiting a short moment before the door opened and an elderly lady greeted them with a questioning glance.

“Excuse me ma’am,” said Arthur quietly so his voice wouldn’t be heard by others passing on the street behind him. “I was wondering if you could help my friend and I?”

For a small second all the woman did was stare at Arthur with deep brown eyes as if trying to figure him out and Alfred was certain that she was going to shut the door on them. However, Arthur was determined not to let his plan fail like this, discreetly lifting his hood just enough so that the woman could see his face. If Arthur knew anything about his own face it was that his eyes and his eyebrows were very recognisable. Immediately her face lit up with a bright smile and her mouth open wide to say something but Arthur pressed a skinny finger to his lips. She followed the silent instruction and instead went back to frowning as if Alfred and Arthur were simply strangers on her doorstep; which, in some sense, they were.

“Of course, come on in.” She held the door open and allowed the pair to enter her home; Alfred cautiously following Arthur’s lead into the house where they were instantly in the kitchen area. The house was small and the kitchen was basic, a small wooden table in the centre of the room and old cooking necessities – it didn’t even compare to the luxury Alfred knew the castle kitchen’s had.

As soon as the front door was shut and they were closed off to the outside world, the elderly woman beamed a bright warm smile from ear to ear and opened her arms towards Arthur.

“Arthur, my darling! I can’t believe it’s really you!” She grinned, Arthur crouching down into her arms so she could hug him and hugging her back without much hesitation, his hood falling from his head and revealing the spiky blond strands underneath.

“I’m so sorry from dropping in during such desperate times but I need a favour. You’re the only one I trust to help us.”

The woman let go of Arthur, her hands patting his shoulders as she looked him over, eyeing his less than formal clothing, before her eyes flickered over to Alfred who was still stood hesitantly beside the door hiding his face under his hood. Arthur noticed he was even looking down at the ground so that the fabric hung loose around his face. Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes, explaining that the hood was unnecessary; they were safe whilst in the walls of this house. The King’s blue eyes gave him a wary look but eventually headed his advice and allowed the hood to fall behind him. Arthur’s elderly friend gasped and tapped Arthur on the arm excitedly as if Arthur had never seen Alfred up close before either, her brown eyes wide and star-struck as they took in the picture of Alfred in front of her.

“My Goodness… The King of Spades is in my house! John, Get in here!” She called out into the small house and Arthur was thankful that the houses in the villages were not attached to each other. If someone heard them now, his plan would be ruined and they’d be right back where they started before they’d even began. Heavy footsteps sounded not too far away and approached the kitchen until an elderly man entered from the living area and froze instantly upon seeing Arthur and Alfred stood tall in his kitchen, his wife merrily looking between them with a dazed - but happy - look on her face.

His faded blue eyes looked shocked and startled, focused entirely upon Alfred for a moment before he registered that Arthur was in the same room stood just beside his wife. His eyes lit up with newfound life almost immediately and his lips cracked into a genuine smile that perhaps hadn’t been present on his face in a while. He seemed to stare at the Queen as if not believing he were real before shuffling across the kitchen as fast as his old legs could carry him to Arthur where he practically dragged him into a hug. Arthur bent down to his height with a small laugh to cover how startled he was by the sudden contact, patting the old man’s back as he returned the hug.

The moment almost reminded Alfred of parents seeing their child again after years of being apart – a reunion that had clearly been long overdue. The elderly couple were obviously very fond of Arthur and clearly he thought dear of them too yet Alfred couldn’t recall the Queen ever mentioning them before. They looked at Arthur as if he was their son but Alfred knew that that were impossible - Arthur’s parents were as dead as his own.

Each time their eyes turned to him they were wide and Alfred could assume that the pair never imagined that both King and Queen would come knocking on their door and stand in their kitchen. Of course it was intimidating, they were powerful rulers and not only that but both he and Arthur stood at least a head taller than the couple as they got lost in their own thoughts and trivial conversation, observing and picking at Arthur and his clothing.

Arthur only remained still and let them do as they pleased, smiling happily and Alfred felt a slight tingle of jealousy stab at his chest, almost painfully so. He hadn’t seen that loving smile in weeks and now a pair of strangers, that Alfred didn’t know the identity of or relation to Arthur, were causing that breath-taking smile to appear without any effort at all? Alfred couldn’t help but be jealous. He was confused too. Arthur was looking at them as if they were long lost family members.

As if sensing his sudden change of mood, Arthur’s eyes glanced over in his direction and noticed the way his eyes were darting between the three, trying to put some sense into what was happening. Arthur cleared his throat and stood straight, brushing down his clothing and in turn stopping any approaching hands that were previously picking at his cloak or tunic.

“Alfred. This is Mary and John. They’re old friends of my family-”

“Like the son we never had this one,” John grinned as he elbowed Arthur in the ribs, cutting him off and forcing the Queen to put on a smile as he rubbed the offended area. Alfred instantly recognised the signs of not-so-well-hidden pain on his husband’s face and realised that John had just jabbed Arthur not so far from his recent wound. “You’re a lucky man Your Majesty.”

Alfred’s blue eyes widened ever so slightly at the forward comment, looking at the old man before his eyes slowly wondered over at Arthur. The Queen looked around ready for the ground to swallow him hollow; the tips of his ears were turning pink and he refused to look Alfred directly in the eye – only giving him a fleeting apologetic glance before his eyes dropped to the ground as if begging it one last time to open and let him fall away from the situation presented to him.

“I am indeed.”

At his response Arthur’s head snapped up so fast Alfred was worried he was going to hurt his neck, the Queen clearly not expecting such a simple and kind answer if there was to be an answer at all. His green eyes were shocked and Alfred couldn’t help but look at him softly.

In that one moment, everything felt normal.

John had spoken sense – Alfred was incredibly lucky to have a man such as Arthur as his Queen never mind as his husband. Not only was he a King with all the highlights and lowlights that came with such duties, he had found the love of his life along the way and despite all currents events he still loved Arthur with every fibre of his being. He was just holding a heavy grudge.

“So,” Mary spoke out, seeming to sense that there was unknown tension between the two royals. “What can we help you with dear?”

“Ah, yes!” Arthur hurriedly pulled the satchel from his shoulder and walked to the table, placing it down and pulling out the clothing. Mary gasped in horror once it was handed to her and she saw the blood stains, opening her mouth to speak her concerns but Arthur cut her off before she could even start. “We’re fine; Ivan’s blades cause wounds that I cannot heal with my own magic that’s all. I need you to get rid of these as best you can. Sell the material, burn it, use it somehow; I don’t care. Just destroy it so it can no longer be recognised as clothing from the castle.”

Mary’s fingers felt at the fabric of his coat carefully and Arthur stood still with bated breath as he waited for her response. He was relying solely on these two people to help destroy evidence that they had been in this area of the kingdom. If Ivan knew the location they had apparated to then it wouldn’t take him too long to scour the surrounding lands and figure out their intended course back around to the castle.

When Mary nodded her head slowly Arthur felt as if a tonne of bricks had been removed from his shoulders. She looked from the fabric to his face, placing it down on the table so that she could take his hand into her own. Her eyes silently looked over his pale fingers for a moment before they lifted and met with his questioning gaze. She appeared happy and sad all at the same time.

“Promise me that you’re alright.”

“Mary, I promise you. My wounds are healing as we speak,” He reassured her softly as he patted her hand with his other. He couldn’t let on that they were not healing as well or as fast as he would have liked them to but they were on their way, like any other cut or graze. Going from healing wounds to not just took some getting used to that was all.

Somewhat comforted by his words she released his hand and turned back to the satchel, pulling out the remaining clothing and holding up Alfred’s coat. She observed the blood stains in a similar fashion, pinpointing where they were on the coat and where most of the blood had gathered before her eyes turned to Alfred and located the same area on his body. He smiled under her concerned gaze and rubbed his arm gently.

“I’m healing too.”

“Your Majesty, if you’re hurting we can-” John tried to offer up more help but Alfred held up his hand to stop him mid-sentence. He sent grateful looks to both Mary and John before his eyes finally stayed on John.

“What you are doing for us is more than enough. Arthur and I will be forever thankful for such assistance. King Ivan can be cruel and unforgiving. I will not let him take this kingdom from us and lead such caring people like you into misery.”

Arthur agreed wholeheartedly that they could not accept any more help from his friends; it would be asking them for too much and would get them into too much trouble in a fight that was not theirs. It was nice to know that despite everything at least he and Alfred agreed on something. John nodded at Alfred’s words and held out his hand, Alfred taking and the pair shaking in a firm handshake.

“As long as we have rulers like you Spades will thrive. I have lived here many years and seen many rulers. Although the youngest I have complete faith in you. Don’t let a bully such as the club scum tear you apart.” John gave Alfred another nod of his head as he released his hand and wondered to the table to observe the clothing his wife was spreading out across the small table, leaving the King stunned by his words.

His pale blue eyes noted the blood, the fabric and shared in small conversation with his wife about what exactly they would do with all this expensive fabric even if it was stained. Eventually he mentioned to Arthur that there was a small market on the Heart border that would buy such material without question on where they obtained it – obviously if they cut out the bloodied areas and burnt them first.

Arthur agreed that it was a reasonable plan and would get the job done. He told both Mary and John that whatever money the materials sold for was all theirs to keep and it would be well deserved. After all, they were hard working people who acted like his parents when he had none. Two brilliant, kind people who had no reason to take in four orphaned boys deserved more than what they were living by currently. If anything, Arthur wished that his position as Queen could allow him to give them more than the shoddy house they lived in.

“I do hate to appear after so long and then leave just as quickly. Believe me when I say I would much rather stay and catch up but I have a kingdom to reclaim. I need to get a King back on his throne,” Arthur grinned over at Alfred who, although was trying his best not to, cracked a smile and rolled his eyes. Arthur felt perhaps they were on the road to recovery but as quickly as it was there it was gone, Alfred’s eyes dropping to the ground at his feet once more.

Arthur stared at him a while longer, only jolted from his thoughts when Mary’s hand landed gently on his forearm. Instantly he looked down to her, brown eyes already waiting for his with a solemn expression on her face. Out the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed John divulge in parting conversation with Alfred – his mind instantly curious as to just what was being said. John had never really had the greatest filter, even when it came to important people such as royalty.

“You look at him as if you miss him?” Mary’s voice was soft and quiet, her hands subconsciously rubbing Arthur’s arm. He sighed and hung his head, perplexed as to how she had figured him out but choosing better than to lie straight to her face. He thought he had been rather sneaky and impartial with his feelings but apparently that wasn’t true. Arthur should have known really; Mary had always had a keen eye for one’s true emotions.

“He is mad, I can understand that. I made a choice and only I can live with those consequences.”

“I can’t imagine what you have been though these last few hours although your clothing does give me some insight. Don’t think I failed to notice the way your clothes were more torn than his.” Arthur almost rolled his eyes as Mary’s hand moved to take his once more, turning him so that he was facing her. “You’re strong Arthur, more so than you think. I’m sure whatever the King holds against you will not last forever. He loves you. I can see straight through him.”

At that precise moment Alfred chose to look their way, listening to John as he continued to ramble away but blue eyes staring at over at Arthur. The Queen took in a deep breath as he returned the look, turning back to Mary and patting her hand that was clasped in his.

“I hope you’re right. It will be a very long trip otherwise.” Mary chuckled and gave Arthur a final hug, pulling him close and holding him in a tight, warm embrace.

“Your parents would be so proud of you Arthur. They’d be so proud of the man you have become, just as we are.” Her words were feather light against his ear and meant only for him to hear in the small kitchen as he hugged her back, his hold tightening upon hearing such meaningful words. He felt tears threaten behind his eyes instantly, swallowing thickly to hold them back as she grasped at the cloak on his back as if wishing she could hold him forever. The hug was shorter than he wanted and clearly not long enough for Mary either as she fondled with the front of his cloak, not wanting to let go, but Arthur was very aware of Alfred’s nervous and uncomfortable movements as he edged closer and closer towards the door. A silent and but clear indication they were wasting time that they didn’t have.

He spared just enough time to give John another hug, the old man patting Arthur on the back and barely missing the wound on his shoulder. Arthur would have laughed at John’s accuracy had it not caused him pain. He also mentioned Arthur’s parents and how proud he was of Arthur, giving him a stern but loving look as they parted as if to prove his point to make Arthur believe it. He could only nod and bid them farewell as the couple showed them out.

Alfred left first, his hood up and over his head as he ducked out the door and onto the small pathway that led back out onto the street. He glanced around the streets, weary of the passer-by’s even if they weren’t paying all that much attention. Arthur understood – they had to make sure that Ivan’s patrols hadn’t reached this far out into the kingdom yet. He was sure patrols would be coming sooner or later. They couldn’t stick around to find out.

Arthur was much more hesitant to leave. When creating his plan he hadn’t factored in how much emotion seeing his former guardians would stir up or just how long they would spend with them. The sun was well in the sky by now and Arthur could only assume that it was afternoon already. As parting gifts, Mary and John handed Alfred and Arthur each one small bread roll and although it wasn’t much Arthur was grateful. He didn’t realise just how hungry he was until he smelt something as wonderful as freshly made bread. With a sad smile he bid them both farewells as he too followed in Alfred’s footsteps out the door with his hood drawn over his head.

Alfred stood at the end of small path to the house and waited, watching as Arthur briskly walked past without another a word or look back. He motioned for Alfred to follow and the King did exactly as he was told, Arthur hearing his footsteps behind him exactly as it had been before they had entered the house.

And as if nothing in the house had happened at all, the two royals went back to walking in silence until they had left the village far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yay for a super long chapter! This has a boat load of small hints to Arthur’s past in it but all will be revealed next chapter.   
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

            Yao was worried. No, he was terrified. Matthew had been gone hours with no signs of his return. None of the guards would listen to him, each one pretending they couldn’t hear him and acting like statues. He’d paced, he’d argued and now he was left to do nothing but sit on the end of his bed and twiddle his thumbs.

Arthur’s brothers, in the cell opposite, were almost as twitchy as Yao. Alistair, although injured, was most verbal about his feelings but never made a move to get off the bed. Yao supposed yelling at the guards took up more energy than he had in the first place. Connor had resulted in sitting on the floor with his knees against his chest and simply staring at the ground. Yao could only wonder what he thought about although he had suspicion that it would most likely concern his younger brother. Finally, Dylan was stood against the bars, holding the iron in his pale hands and pressing his face against it, desperately trying to see down the hallway for any signs of movement.

The Jack let out a heavy sigh, eyeing the food that had been left in the corner for him. He’d made no attempt to touch it in a sign of protest. He was the Jack of this kingdom; he would not be treated as some criminal. He was old and although he knew he would need to eat eventually the thought was only a small nagging in the back of his mind. His appetite had completely evaporated as soon as Matthew had left the cell.

Echoing off the stone walls, the sound of heavy footsteps reached down into the dungeons, the doors at the top opening and letting in shards of light as footsteps descended the stairs. Yao jumped from his bed and pressed himself against the bars, stomach dropping upon hearing the distinct sound of boots being dragged across stone.

Seconds felt like hours until two guards appeared in his line of sight, Matthew crumpled in a heap between as he was dragged. His head was hung low and his arms wrapped around the shoulders of the guards to hold him up, feet and legs dragging uselessly behind. Yao’s hand covered his mouth in shock as he stepped away from the doors so they could be opened, the guards shuffling inside with Matthew and dropping him onto the ground before quickly taking their leave and locking up the door once more.

“Matthew!” Yao gasped, falling to his knees at this side and ignoring the pain the sudden movement brought him. In the background he could hear Alistair’s booming voice attack the guards but they paid him no mind, the two guards that had returned Matthew leaving the dungeon whilst the others returned to their positions outside their cells.

“Matthew, oh Spades, what did he do to you?” Yao muttered as he rolled Matthew onto his back, the Ace too weak to even move a limb. He just lay there, covered in blood and skin bruising back and blue. His chest rose and fell in short, painful breaths but he was alive and that’s all that Yao could ask for. Scrunching his face in pain, Matthew opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment before letting them land on Yao’s concerned face.

“Y-You should see you face…” He gave a weak laugh, lips curling just enough to form a small smile and Yao could have slapped him if he weren’t injured enough already. Despite the situation Yao couldn’t help but smile too. Matthew was always the one to try and make others feel better even when he was the one in pain.

“You should see your own young man,” He sighed, pressing a gentle hand to Matthew’s chest. Matthew wrinkled his nose at the motion but placed his own bloodied hand atop it.

“Yao?”

“Hm?”                                                                                           

“Don’t let him do this to you. Be stronger than me,” Matthew whispered his voice obviously weak and sore as he blinked up at the older man. Yao brushed a strand of his blond hair away from his face, frowning at the blood that gathered on his fingers from doing so. He shook his head and squeezed Matthew’s hand.

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met Matthew. He wouldn’t dream of doing such thing to me but I can never be as strong as you. Alfred is very lucky to have you.”

“Tell that to him when he gets back, I want to see his face when you do.”

“I promise I will,” Yao laughed and removed his hand from Matthew’s to brush away all the hair sticking to his face and removed his gasses which had, although rather dented, managed to stay intact throughout the young Ace’s beating. He placed them not too far from the top of Matthew’s head on the ground before getting to work on making the other as comfortable as he could. Matthew was weak and although the ground was cold and hard it was better than forcing him to move. He’d just placed the bed’s pillows under Matthew’s head and thrown the less than desirable blanket over him when their cell jangled once more as it was unlocked.

“Wang Yao?” The guard asked with a bored voice, holding the door open as Yao glared at him. He knelt to promise Matthew he would be back soon and told him to get some rest, the young Ace already half asleep by the time he’d stood straight. He brushed out the creases in his uniform before heading to the door, stopping and facing the guard with a stern expression.

“If this man is in any worse condition and has not received medical assistance by the time I return then I do hope that King Ivan knows he will have hell to pay for.” The guard only blinked at him before narrowing his eyes. Yao swore he saw his hand twitch at his side as if he wanted to slap him but Yao knew that was his King’s job. The Jack gave Arthur’s brothers a reassuring nod as their worried faces watched him leave the dungeons.

Yao was not surprised that he was allowed to walk of his own accord with only two guards to the throne room. Matthew had put up much more resistance when they were arrested than he had and so had proved a much larger threat. Yao would not run nor would he fight. He had some rather strong words to tell Ivan himself.

The guards flanked his sides as they made their way to the throne room, Queen Elizaveta stood patiently outside the doors for him. Her green eyes landed on him as soon as they entered the hallway, sword glimmering at her side as she nursed what looked like a wounded wrist. The guards stopped Yao directly opposite her and although she was taller than him, Yao refused to show any signs of intimidation.

“He has ordered that he speak with you alone. How special you are,” She hummed as she stepped aside and allowed for the doors to swing open. A heavy push to his back caused Yao to stumble rather ungracefully into the throne room and turn back to watch the doors close behind him. He took a deep breath and peered into the throne room, stomach twisting into knots upon seeing a damp patch on the floor in the centre of the room before the thrones where it had obviously been cleaned.

“I am hoping you will be of more use than that silly little boy of yours.” Ivan’s voice sent shivers crawling all over Yao’s skin but he refused to let it show, instead striding into the room where he saw Ivan stood between the two thrones, watching. Violet eyes were scrutinising his every move as Yao stepped into the light and stopped a short away from the centre of the room where the floor had recently been scrubbed.

“Matthew did not deserve such beatings.”

“Had he given me useful information he would not have suffered so much. But he chose to fight against me. Do you choose the same fate?” Yao scowled at him and crossed his arms.

“Don’t pretend that is the reason you did as you did.” Yao braved a few steps forward, walking over the dampened patch until he was only a couple stride from the small stone steps leading up to the thrones where Ivan stood. “You beat him based purely on the fact you looked at him and saw Alfred in his place. You beat an innocent man because of a desperate illusion.”

“You dare accused me of such things?”

“I don’t accuse, you did them and therefore it is truth. I wasn’t afraid of you back then Ivan, I sure as hell am not afraid of you now.”

Ivan released a low growl as he strode down the stairs until he was just in front of Yao, looking down on the much shorter man but Yao didn’t feel threatened. Ivan was tall and built like a house but Yao had known this man for longer than he cared to admit, there was no way Ivan’s size alone would intimidate him.

“You should be very much afraid.”

“Unfortunately, I am not. Disappointed? Yes. Afraid? No.” Yao could see the anger rising in the King’s eyes but he made no attempt to hurt Yao, only turning on his heel and pacing back and forth in front of the Jack. His staff was propped against Alfred’s throne as the Club King clasped his hands behind his back and took a deep, calming breath. Yao almost had the urge to run and use the staff on Ivan as he had on Matthew but he pushed the feeling down into his gut. Doing so would only make things worse.

“You have no right to be disappointed in me Yao. You don’t know the half of my troubles.”

“You act as if I wasn’t a witness to your sister’s execution.”

As soon as the words had tumbled from Yao’s mouth, Ivan was in his face, a fist full of Yao’s shirt bundled in his hands and dragging him up onto his tiptoes. His eyes were alight with a fire that sent the small twinge of fear that Yao had been suppressing so far swirling but he was fairly confident that Ivan wouldn’t hurt him. He could push with his worst and rile the King up but he knew, deep down, that the Club King wouldn’t touch a hair on his head. Their past was too deeply embedded.

“Don’t mention her!”

“Why not? Is this not why you are here? To blame an innocent young man for something he didn’t do just because his father died before you had the chance to act on your revenge?”

“I’m losing my patience very quickly Yao.”

“Then let me go,” said Yao, eyes dropping to the fingers grasping his shirt. Ivan looked too, almost as if he’d forgotten that he was still holding him, hesitating before throwing the fabric from his grasp and storming up to the thrones where he took a seat in the King’s throne. Yao couldn’t suppress the horrible sickness the sight brought him. Seeing a man such as Ivan in Alfred’s place was not something he had ever pictured. In Yao’s mind Ivan didn’t belong on a throne in the first place, never mind on Alfred’s.

“This is not why I brought you here. You will tell me where your precious King is or the same fate will come to you as it did to Matthew.”

“I don’t have anything to divulge with you. When I do I will let you know but as of now I am almost as clueless as you are.”

“Don’t make me use mind games.”

“You can use mind games all you want. You can search and dig through my brain but you won’t find anything that Queen Arthur hasn’t already erased.” Ivan sat up straight in the throne at the startling revelation that someone had already been into Yao’s mind.

The Jack cringed at the memory of Arthur asking such a thing of him but upon hearing the Queen’s explanation he had been more than willing to have his memories altered. He didn’t remember it obviously; all he remembered was that Arthur had been weak after using so much magic. He too had felt the strain but they agreed that it would be worth it. Ivan was both talented and cruel in his mind tricks. “You seem surprised?”

“I am. Willingly giving up your memories is a large risk. I did not realise Arthur was so talented with memory altercation.”

Yao wanted so desperately to say something about Arthur. About how powerful he really was when he put his mind to it, when he believed that he could do it, that he and Alfred were an unforgiving team once magic and strength were brought together as one. But he reframed from mentioning his two royals. Ivan was worked up enough simply from Yao’s argumentative approach to the situation, the Jack thought it best that Ivan continue to underestimate Arthur – it would certainly work in the Queen’s favour when he came to claim back his throne.

“I gladly allowed my Queen to alter whatever memories he deemed necessary. I trust him completely. I would rather have every memory I have ever made altered than see you on the throne of Spades. You’re lucky to have a throne of your own already; I’ll be dead before you gain another.”

Ivan’s eyes studied him before he rose from out the throne, wondering around it and allowing his hand to brush his staff as he passed it. Yao swallowed and wondered just what the Club King was thinking as he hovered around the throne, fidgeting.

“That’s unfortunate seems as I am already in procession of your precious throne.”

“You aren’t though are you?” Yao’s brown eyes flickered from Ivan to Alfred’s throne where he had noticed that Ivan couldn’t sit for longer than a couple of minutes. He walked around it, stood by it, but for someone who had just come to claim it he never sat in it for very long. Ivan’s eyes narrowed at the Jack as he slowly descended the stairs, stopping on the last one to glare back at the throne now sat slightly above them both.

“Spades will never let you in Ivan. This castle was built on the epicentre of magic itself, it breaths through these walls and it is very much aware that you are an imposter. That is why you cannot sit on the throne for very long. It makes you uncomfortable until you can do nothing but stand again. Spades will not give in so easily Ivan. Just because you stand here in front of me doesn’t not mean that you have won.”

“Enough.” Yao stiffened at the tone of the Club King’s voice. He sounded tired and clearly drained from this conversation that was leading him nowhere – precisely as Yao had planned. He knew that if he riled up Ivan long enough then he would eventually give up. Ivan had no patience for going around in circles. “You are clearly no use to me. Leave.”

Yao nodded and turned to leave the room, desperate to rid himself of the sinking feeling that had sat heavily in his stomach the whole time. Sharing a room with Ivan was bad enough but to have to look into those eyes that were so different to what he once knew was almost painful. Just as he reached the doors Ivan called out to him, forcing him to stop and turn back to face the King, now stood with his back to Yao and his head turned to once side so that he could see Yao out the corner of his eye.

“Did you ever love me?” The question was quiet and Yao was stunned into silence at the sudden change in tactics. Nothing about Ivan was ever sentimental – maybe it was once but that was a long time ago. A crown upon his head had changed him into a completely different man. They were both very different people now. Yao swallowed the lump in his throat and sighed, fingers brushing the door that would eventually allow him to leave.

“I think I did once. You meant everything to me. Then I came to realise that you were simply playing me and using my position in the Spade castle like I was some sort of puppet. The moment that I finally saw the truth every ounce of love I had for you died. I love Arthur and Alfred as if they were my own children; my love for them far outweighed the self-pity I felt for myself. Everything was lie. I was just too blinded to see it sooner.” His voice was quiet as he faced the door, not wanting to look back and see whatever response Ivan had to his words. Things were once a lot different but nothing could be salvaged. Ivan was a man that Yao no longer knew.

“Nothing I ever said to you was a lie. I meant every word. I loved you Yao… I think I still do.”

Yao bit his lip and pushed back the tears that built behind his eyes, desperate to break free. He couldn’t give into the words that were being spoken to him. They were a lie. They were everything that Yao had once wanted to hear. They were there to manipulate him into giving in. Yao wouldn’t surrender, not now, not ever. Alfred and Arthur were too important to both him and the kingdom.

“It’s a little too late for that…”

**XxXxXxXxXx**

When Yao was returned to his cell he was relieved to find that Matthew had been moved up onto the bed and looked in much better condition that when he left. He was bandaged up, his skin now clean of blood but Yao could see the way his skin was slowly turning black and blue; his left eye already starting to swell. Hovering over him, at the side of the bed, was a small man who was gently finishing up wrapping some more dressing around Matthew’s arm. Matthew was propped up with some extra pillows behind his back and the moment he caught sight of Yao’s return his eyes lit up and immediately began a thorough search of his body for injuries as Yao was led back into his cell.

“Yao! You’re alright!” Matthew gasped as if it were a miracle, not trusting his eyes and reaching with his free hand for his glasses. They didn’t sit right because of his swollen face and the dent in the frame but that didn’t stop Matthew double checking Yao for wounds or any signs of discomfort. It warmed Yao’s heart.

“Of course I'm alright, I said I would be. Thank you for attending to Matthew’s wounds whilst I was away Leon.” Yao turned to the man who was around his height and, much like the Jack, was several inches smaller than the Ace. He lifted his head and looked over Yao with amber eyes nodding quietly and patting Matthew’s arm. He scrunched up his face at the action but was happy to have his arm back and bandaged up; Yao could barely see him thought all the white now twirled around him.

“It’s an honour. King Ivan has me tending to his own men who were wounded in battle. It’s nice to see blue after seeing so much green,” Leon cracked the smallest of smiles as he nodded at Yao’s blue and white robes. Packing away his other supplies he had been using into a small bag, Leon brushed a strand of his deep brown hair away from his face and stood up straight, brushing down his own blue clothing.

Leon was the Spade Healer and spent his time in the castle infirmary. He was in charge of the King and Queen’s health should they ever fall ill along with teaching younger students about medicine. He was talented and a kind young soul who wanted nothing more than to see the King and Queen rule at their best. He also happened to be Yao’s nephew so it was handy having him around in the castle where Yao could keep a close eye on him.

“How come you’re all in one piece? It doesn’t even look like you’ve broken a sweat.”

“Fortunately for me I don’t happen to have the same face as our young King. It saddens me greatly to know that poor Matthew here was beaten for no reason other than his appearance.”

It took Matthew less than a second.

“I knew that bastard was jealous of my fabulous hair.”

“You sound just like Alfred,” Yao remarked with an eye roll and patted Matthew’s feet from where he stood at the end of the bed. “You need to rest, isn’t that right doctor?”

“Indeed. The more sleep you get the better. Don’t sit up suddenly and don’t over work yourself, not that you can in this tiny cell anyway,” Leon ordered, looking around the enclosed space as he picked up his bag and gave them a final farewell before leaving the cell under a guard’s supervision. He gave Alistair a similar telling before leaving the dungeons. From a brief glance Yao could see that Alistair had also been patched up by Leon and looked a lot brighter from it: sat on the bed and scowling at the guards as if his shoulder had never been wounded at all.

Matthew yawned and pulled out a few pillows from behind him, giving him a flat comfortable surface to lie on and at the same time providing Yao with a couple of pillows himself. Yao took them gratefully and placed them on the ground beside Matthew’s bed, sitting on them instead of the cold hard ground as he stared at the iron bars holding him prisoner.

His thoughts instantly wondered to that of his King and Queen again.

He knew it would be impossible for the pair to return to the castle within the same day. He just had to hope that Alfred and Arthur could overcome whatever obstacles in their path and work together to reclaim their throne. For now, Yao would rest and watch over Matthew. He had no doubt that they were going to need their strength for when their royals made their return but, for now, their future was entirely in the hands of Alfred and Arthur.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

“Will you stop walking for one second?”

“Why? Do your legs hurt?”

“In case you haven’t noticed it’s been a long 24 hours and I’ve done an awful lot of running in those 24 hours.”

“Fine,” Alfred huffed like a petulant child and turned back to face him, frustration blatantly clear on his face. Arthur was leant against the closest tree, using the solid structure to support part of his weight which he desperately wanted off his aching legs. They’d been walking all day; the sun had set and night had fallen. Now they were walking blindly in the dark in the middle of thick forest. Arthur had wanted to stop and set up camp what felt like hours ago but Alfred insisted they keep going, determined to make some headway back to the castle.

Arthur had never felt so much relief roll of his shoulders as he fell to the ground at the bottom of the tree, spreading his legs out in front of him and groaning as he felt his muscles tingle. He pressed his palms against his thighs in an attempt to make them feel better but it didn’t work. The aching was agony.

Whilst he sat, Alfred wondered around the area and collected a pile of sticks and twigs, dropping them just a few feet from Arthur and kneeling to place them in a neat pile. He stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line to stop him talking as Arthur watched him. They had barely spoken a word all day and the times in which they had it was petty arguments about the smallest of things. For a fully-grown man, and King for that matter, Alfred sure knew how to act like a child.

Within minutes Alfred had the sticks neatly piled up and was about to start rubbing two together for a spark when Arthur lazily flicked his hand in Alfred’s direction. Arthur had expected some magnificent show of magic as was usual. Starting a fire was one of the easiest things to do and most of the time Arthur started fires on accidents however, only a flicker of tiny sparks fluttered from Arthur’s fingertips.

As pathetic as it was, it worked. The sparks landed amongst Alfred’s neatly crafted creation and caught against the wood only needing the smallest amount of blowing from Alfred to get it going before he was sat warming his hands close by. The concerned glance that Alfred gave him was not one that Arthur particularly cared for.

“I know shocking how even the most powerful sorcerer in the Four Kingdoms has his limits and here he is, his magic weakened by a mere bit of running. Laughable isn’t it?” Arthur chuckled to himself but it was dry and dead as he stared at his hands. Alfred said nothing. Arthur rolled his eyes and bit his lip to bite back a pained whimper as he tugged off his boots, grimacing at the blood staining his socks.

“Your feet are bleeding.”

“Brilliant observation there,” Arthur mumbled, peeling off his socks and observing the damage. Both his feet were badly cut, bruised and swollen – just looking at them added to Arthur’s pain. Thankfully these injuries were not inflicted by Ivan, only himself, and therefore were easily healable, Arthur whispering a few words and sighing contently when the cuts closed and the swelling went down slowly. No longer feeling the pain of sores and cuts, he slipped his socks and boots back on.

Normally healing didn’t take too much out of Arthur but in the last day he had used up a lot of magic, a lot of energy and had barely slept. He was starting to wear down and his body was beginning to strain. Every blinking moment was beginning to become a struggle now that he was sat and he had warmth in front of him.

“You never said it hurt that bad.” Arthur’s eyes cast over to Alfred. The King was sat hugging his knees to his chest, the warm glow of the fire dancing across his face as he watched the embers float up into the darkened sky.

“You weren’t exactly willing to listen.”

Awkward and tense silence fell over them like a blanket once again – something that Arthur had found a disturbingly common thing that day. Alfred had never been one for silence, he hated being left to his own thoughts but for the whole day Alfred had refused to make eye contact with him let alone open his mouth and speak with him. Arthur supposed he could understand. That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Like Alfred, he cuddled his knees to his chest just to that he could wrap his arms around them so he wouldn’t fidget. He willed for the pulsing in his thighs to go away but he knew that wouldn’t happen. He had been relentless on his legs and it pained Arthur to even think it had only been a single day. It felt like much longer. He felt like he’d been away from the castle for weeks. Days were certainly much longer when Alfred was giving him the cold shoulder.

“I hope Matt’s alright,” Alfred mused, staring at the fire in front of him as if it would show him everything he wanted to know. Arthur didn’t know if he was talking to him or simply voicing his concerns aloud, his face softening at the troubled look on his husband’s face. Automatically his own thoughts wondered to that of his own brothers. The last he’d seen of them had been a passing glance and his eldest brother had been injured in that brief moment. He hadn’t even stopped to check if he was alright. Were they being punished for his mistakes?

It made him feel sick to his stomach but he took a deep breath to try and clear to worrying voices in his head. He couldn’t focus on his brother’s right now. It would be a selfish thing to do when Alfred was clearly so concerned about his twin brother. If anyone was in trouble in that castle it would be Matthew. He would obviously be first in line when it came to Ivan’s long list of people to beat.

“Give him some credit he’s a lot stronger than he makes out to be.”

“I don’t doubt that but Ivan is stronger. I don’t know what he could do. If he’s hurt Matt because of me I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

“You aren’t to blame for any of this. No one could predict Ivan would attack the castle.”

“We underestimated him.”

“And he underestimates us. That’s why we’re going to win. Not now, not tomorrow but eventually. Dwelling on the negatives only makes things worse.” Alfred turned his head to face him, blue eyes dark and reflecting the flames of the fire. Arthur could only hold his gaze for a few seconds, his eyes sadly dropping to his feet as he let them spread out in front of him once more and trying to find a comfortable position. “We should get some sleep; we have a long journey ahead of us.”

Alfred said nothing and remained motionless for a moment before he rose to his feet and joined him under the tree. Arthur had the distinct feeling he wanted to say something more but kept his words to himself as he sat down to the left of Arthur and leant back against the tree. Getting as comfortable as he could against a solid tree, he pulled his glasses from his face and let them sit in the grass not too far from him, pulling his cloak around him to form a make shift blanket and making sure that his back was turned to Arthur.

The Queen watched his back and silently questioned if he too felt the same longing that he felt or whether his anger clouded all other feelings he may have had. It sure seemed like anger and resentment were the only feelings Alfred knew how to portray at the moment. There had been a glimmer of something else back with Mary and John, perhaps a small ray of love that shone past his bowl of clearly confused feelings.

Resting his head back against the tree, Arthur looked up at the sky filled with stars and simply watched them sparkle again the darkness. Everything appeared much clearer out here than back in the city, the stars looked brighter and the sky darker without the glow of the houses sitting beneath it. He’d always loved the outdoors and stargazing, he had done ever since he was a child. It had calmed him but now he couldn’t forget that this was how everything had started merely 24 hours ago. He had been watching these same stars and writing in the comfort of his journal when his world had been flipped on its head.

With his eyelids growing heavy he gave into them and allowed his eyes to close, unaware to just how exhausted his body was. Within a few minutes of his eyes closing he fell into a heavy, dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope Matthew doesn’t seem a little too out of character. I’ve written him with a personality a lot stronger than how I normally would. In this he’s a fighter and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep his brother safe. 
> 
> But yes! A little insight to Yao and Ivan’s past and more arguing royals wondering around the woods. What a chapter huh? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

            Birdsong chattered around him and was the very first sound he heard as the darkness of sleep lifted and reality slowly returned to him. Slowly he opened his eyes, groaning quietly at the brightness as he looked around to gain his bearings as his eyes adjusted. For a brief moment he was confused, unsure of his surroundings, until he saw the small strands of familiar blond hair peeking out from the other side of the tree.

Of course this wasn’t some silly nightmare. This was all too real. Clumsily feeling around in the grass beside him he found his glasses, checking they were bug free before slipping them onto his nose. He wrinkled his nose up in slight pain as he clambered to his feet, his back stiff and his limbs heavy as he stretched them out. He couldn’t hide the small wince he made when he remembered his wounded arm too. Perhaps walking all day and then sleeping against a solid tree wasn’t such a brilliant idea.

He found that the fire was still smoking; a small trail of grey floating aimlessly into the air, ashes pooled in the centre where there had once been roaring flames. Thankfully, the sun was out in full force, bringing with it enough warmth to fight off the morning chill.

Despite everything that had happened, Alfred found himself thankful that Ivan hadn’t attacked during the winter months. He wasn’t sure he could survive trekking through the snow and camping out in the freezing cold. He could barely sleep in the cold castle without complaining.

Quietly, he walked around the tree, standing and looking over his Queen who remained asleep against it. He was curled up in a tight ball with his cloak acting as his blanket; it was pulled up around his neck and covered his mouth, only his nose peering out over the top. Obviously he had been cold in the night and although he clearly looked uncomfortable in such a position he seemed peaceful. Alfred was glad to have a moment where he could just look at Arthur and see actually him and not those beautiful green eyes staring back at him with hurt and uncertainty.

As much as he loved Arthur he could barely face him. Every time he tried he could only remember being dropped onto a strange hilltop in the middle of the night away from a fight he should have been a part of. After two days, Alfred wanted to be over it; to forgive Arthur and hold him in his arms. He wanted to comfort Arthur and have Arthur comfort him and tell him everything was going to be alright in a way he knew Arthur desperately wanted – in a way he wanted. But he couldn’t do that. Not right now.

There was something holding Alfred back. He was stubborn – sometimes almost as stubborn as Arthur – but something in Arthur’s actions had struck him. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was but it ran deeper than just been pulled away from a measly fight with another King. He needed to know what that was and address it with himself before he could forgive Arthur and run back into his wanting embrace, no matter how much it pained him. He let out a heavy sigh and crouched down in front of Arthur, gently running his hand through his soft hair.

“What am I going to do with you?” He whispered to himself, allowing his thumb to gently fall and rub over Arthur’s cheek. The Queen shuffled in his sleep but Alfred found it endearing that Arthur had attempted to move into his hold. Taking a deep breath to control his swelling heart he stood up right and got to work finding some food.

He didn’t move far from Arthur, not wanting to leave him alone in the middle woods. He was the King of this Kingdom; he’d caught many criminals roaming these woods and carrying stolen goods across the borders. Leaving Arthur alone would be dangerous and no matter how angry he was or how frustrated he became he would never put Arthur in a situation like that.

Searching the trees and bushes he managed to find a healthy amount of fruits that they could munch on – Alfred already throwing a couple of berries into his mouth as he returned. He’d never take another royal meal for granted ever again after this. Berries were nice but they were nothing compared to the breakfast the castle kitchens prepared for him each morning.

When he returned to the campfire Arthur was awake. He hadn’t done much but sit up straight and stretch out his legs, eyes darting in his direction the moment he heard him coming.

“I almost had a heart attack I hope you know that,” Arthur said as he gave the King a stern stare before his eyes dropped to the fruits gathered in his arms. It wasn’t much: a couple of apples and a handful of berries but it would have to do. Arthur didn’t seem to be complaining as he eyed them hungrily.

“Did you think that I’d run off without you?” Alfred asked as he sat down and handed Arthur an apple and a couple of berries. Arthur took them with a quiet ‘thank you’, shoulders dropping as he stared vacantly at the apple sitting in his pale fingers.

“At this point I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“I might be mad at you but I'm not mad enough to leave you alone in the middle of the woods,” Alfred reassured him, rather unnerved that Arthur would even think such a thing of him but not showing it, as the two delved into their breakfast. Both were a lot hungrier than they originally thought; Alfred devouring almost three apples and Arthur two alone with the entire pile of berries which they divided equally between them.

Once they had finished they set about getting ready to move on. Alfred readjusted his cloak, making sure that it hung comfortably on his shoulders and not bothering with the hood considering they were in the cover of the trees. Arthur seemed content to do the same, also leaving his hood down as he kicked at what was left of the ashes and sending them scattering across the grass, and the two moved off to continue with their long journey.

They moved in relative silence. Alfred walked up front with Arthur trailing a couple of paces behind him and Alfred found that he spent most of his time staring at the ground. In the forest they couldn’t see the castle, it was too far away but Alfred knew they were still moving in the right direction. It was almost as if the castle was calling him home – a tugging in his gut telling him which way to go. He’d have been happier if he could just see the castle, to see their efforts were not in vain – that their home actually drew nearer with each aching step they took.

With the silence, his thoughts were free to wonder wild and the young King was beginning to grow sick of them already. He’d spent the past two days in silence, listening intently to his conflicted thoughts and emotions, trying to iron out some sort of sense. They were getting annoying rather quickly. Alfred was sure this was the longest that he had ever been so quiet.

He could barely begin to image what his brother was being put through back at the castle – what Yao and the others were going through. Ivan was a cruel and unforgiving leader, having his end game snatched from his fingertips must have sent him mad. Alfred knew that Ivan would be feeling similar emotions: anger, frustration and disappointment that they had been so close to finally finishing things only for Arthur to charge in and change everything. Alfred had never planned for something like this to happen – this was new territory and he was completely unaware of what horrors Ivan would unleash upon his people and his family within the walls of his castle. Ivan could do anything he pleased.

Yet Arthur had reassured him that Ivan was not yet in charge. He could claim the throne as his own, could call himself King of Spades but he would never truly rule over the Spade Kingdom until the both of them were dead. Spades had _chosen_ Alfred and Arthur as its rulers – it knew full well that Ivan was not someone whom belonged on the Spade throne. Arthur had full confidence that the kingdom itself would help hold him off. Alfred wasn’t so sure. How could a kingdom hold of a man as powerful as Ivan with their absence?

Suddenly an unfamiliar sound carried through the trees, one that certainly did not fit within the tranquillity of the forest. Alfred stopped instantly, turning his head to look back at Arthur whom had also stopped and was concentrating on his hearing with a scowl. The pair stayed silent, unmoving, listening.

Snapping twigs, rustling clothing, gruff voices and the distinct jingle of metal faintly carried on the wind in their direction.

“Bandits!” Arthur hissed, fumbling with his hood and tugging it over his head. Alfred copied his actions and the pair set about searching for somewhere, anywhere, they could hide. But, as was obvious when they thought about it, they were surrounded by nothing but trees. No hiding place in sight.

Alfred span around on his heel, blue eyes darting around this way and that in a desperate search for somewhere they could sit and hide. There were no outrunning bandits. Once you ran you involuntarily put yourself into their sick and twisted game where there were very few survivors. At a time like this Alfred really did miss having his sword hanging from his belt – he would take any weapon at this point in time. Throwing his head back in exasperation Alfred paused, eyes fixating on the large branches stretched out above him.

“Trees…” He uttered, eyes dropping down to see Arthur staring at him as if he were delusional. Alfred didn’t think too much over his confused and concerned face as he grabbed his wrist and yanked him over to one of the larger trees close by. “Grab my shoulders.”

“What?”

“Grab my shoulders. I’ll boost you up into the trees and then you pull me up. They’re bandits; they aren’t smart enough to look up,” Alfred explained with an underlying tone of urgency to his voice that told Arthur to just agree and get on with it. The voices were getting closer as Alfred crouched beside the trunk of the tree, clasping his hands together and bracing as he waited for Arthur’s boot. Meadow green eyes darted from Alfred’s hands, to his eyes and then finally at the branches towering high above them – clearly in doubt of the King’s idea.

“Arthur!” Alfred whispered harshly through gritted teeth, surprising himself by how unfamiliar the name sounded on his lips. He tried not to dwell on the fact that this was the first time he had addressed Arthur by name since that night up on the hill and instead remained focused on Arthur’s face. He could hear the bandits closing in on their position as they moved through the trees, Arthur’s eyes wide as he watched Alfred’s face then looked back over his shoulder. He took a deep breath, muttered several curses that Alfred ignored and did as he was asked, lifting his foot into Alfred’s waiting hands.

As soon as his boot was in his hold Alfred lifted him up with a surprising amount of ease, the pain in his arm only minor in comparison to what he thought it might be. He supposed adrenaline had something to do with it. Arthur pushed off his shoulders and braced his other foot against Alfred’s shoulder, using him as a makeshift ladder to lift himself up to the branches. It went a lot smoother than expected, Arthur’s arms latching onto one of the branches where he hauled himself up quickly. It wasn’t graceful but Alfred didn’t really care as he span around and looked up to his husband positioning himself steady on the branch. Once he felt balanced enough he leant down, holding his arm down to Alfred.

“You- You can catch me right?” Alfred had the sudden realisation, seeing Arthur actually up in the tree, that the branch he’d chosen was a lot higher up than he had originally thought. In order to reach Arthur he would have to jump and catch his arm. That meant placing his entire body weight on Arthur’s suspended arm. If Arthur wasn’t braced carefully in the tree he would easily come crashing back down.

“No, I’m not sure but we don’t have a choice! Now give me your bloody arm!” Arthur waved his arm around as his eyes looked past Alfred into the distance where he could see the outlines of the bandit group coming into sight. If this didn’t work then they would have some mighty happy bandits on their hands. Alfred wasn’t sure how much his head was going for these days – when he got back home he’d have to check.

Alfred made an unsure noise before stepping back and taking a running jump at Arthur. His hand landed perfectly into Arthur’s and he used his feet to push and scrape against the tree trunk to help lift him into the tree. Arthur groaned at Alfred’s weight but managed to pull him up until they were both suspended on the same branch, the wood creaking slightly under their combined weight. It was the only one big enough for them to hide on but it was nowhere near the sturdiest.

“Stand back against the tree.”

It was an order more than a suggestion and Arthur immediately did as he was asked, shuffling to his feet and pressing his back against the tree. Alfred then got as close to him as possible, their bodies almost touching as he pressed his palms against the tree on either side of Arthur’s head to keep them both as close to the tree truck as possible where the branch was at its most strongest point.

His body awkwardly draped over Arthur’s almost like a shield. In all their movements both their hoods had fallen from their heads and Alfred’s nose was practically pressed against Arthur’s forehead as he hung his head low, trying to steady his breathing and keep it quiet.

The bandits passed beneath them, talking loudly about things no man should ever speak of. The words enough to make Alfred’s stomach twist and he could see that Arthur had closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to shut out their voices. He could feel Arthur’s irregular breaths on his skin, ticking his neck. Being this close to Arthur made Alfred’s heart race in his chest never mind the bandits wondering the forest floor below.

After a few tense minutes the bandits moved off, Alfred peering around the tree to watch which direction they were moving in and to make sure it was safe for them to emerge. He didn’t want them to jump down from the tree only to alert the bandits after all the effort it had taken them to get up here in the first place. Thankfully the group of sick criminals kept walking, their voices and their outlines fading into the distance.

“G-Good thinking… using the trees as cover I mean…” Arthur said quietly. Alfred turned back to face him only for their noses to awkwardly bump together. The two jumped at the contact but didn’t move away instantly; only stared at each other with the same sense of longing. Alfred slumped forward with a heavy sigh, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s and closing his eyes. He missed having Arthur so close all the time. It had only been two days but to Alfred it felt like weeks since he had last had Arthur in his arms – since he’d held Arthur’s hands and tasted the sweet feeling of Arthur’s smile on his lips.

Arthur’s fingers hesitantly grasped at the hem of his cloak, gripping at the fabric tightly as if afraid to let go. Alfred could understand, he didn’t want to move either, but there was a part of him that told him he needed to move and carry on – that giving into Arthur was not what he wanted. But right here, right now, that was exactly what he wanted.

He wanted nothing more than to stay up in that tree with Arthur forever.

Taking a deep breath of cooling air he stood straight and carefully stepped back, separating himself from Arthur as much as he could on the branch. Now parted, Alfred could see the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of Arthur’s eyes and he felt a stab of guilt, especially when he realised just how desperately Arthur was clinging to his cloak.

Knowing deep down that it was the right thing to do, Alfred let his hands come up and cover Arthur’s, gently prying them off his cloak. His fingers were cold and seemed to shake under his touch as he bit his lip and turned his head away to hide his face. Alfred swallowed thickly and went to say something but a loud crack stopped his thought process all together.

The branch jolted underneath their feet and Alfred had barely responded to the sound of it cracking when the branch disappeared altogether and fell to the ground, taking the two royals with it. Both Alfred and Arthur plummeted out the tree and hit the ground with a loud thud amongst their startled yelps. Upon landing, Alfred instantly felt the pain of having Arthur land on top of him, the Queen then rolling off him with the force of the fall and then into the grass beside him.

The breath was knocked out of Alfred completely and immediately he gasped for air to try and gain it back, laying in the grass with his glasses barely on right, staring up at the tree above where they had just fallen from. The tree didn’t look much different considering it had just lost a rather large branch, the discarded wood sat on the ground not too far from Alfred’s head. The King was glad that too had not landed on him.

Without thought his head automatically turned to face Arthur, his husband lying on his side unmoving, with his cape wrapped around him like a cocoon. Panic stuck Alfred like lightening and although he was dazed from the fall he scarpered to his knees and crawled across the ground to Arthur, rolling him over to make sure he was alright. He was met with a pained groan and pale fingers slapped his hands away from his shoulders, Alfred taking a few moments to realise that his hands were gripping rather tightly on the shoulder that Ivan had politely sliced when they were escaping.

“Are you okay?”

“M’fine…” Arthur mumbled, keeping his eyes closed and simply focusing on breathing. Alfred kept a reassuring hand on his forearm as Arthur lay on his side. Alfred imagined that having a rather large gash on your stomach and one on your back wasn’t particularly handy when you wanted to lie down. Or fall out a tree for that matter.

“Are you sure? What about your shoulder? Is that-”

“Alfred. Shut up.”

Arthur cracked open one eye for a brief moment to give him a single-eyed glare before closing it once more. Alfred pressed his lips into a thin line and bit back whatever argument he was going to make, deciding to let Arthur come around on his own. Naturally he wanted to voice his concerns but he could understand Arthur wanting some peace. He _had_ forced Arthur into the tree in the first place, almost made him cry and then been partially to blame for them falling out the tree. Looking over Arthur once more he sat back in the grass and focused on himself.

His arm ached but it didn’t feel like it was getting any worse or like the wound had reopened of any sorts – Arthur must have done a good job when tending to it. All that hurt now was his ribs and the back of his head where he’d hit the ground. He supposed that things could have been a lot worse. Had Arthur actually hit the solid ground first instead of his chest his wounds would have been much more painful so he was glad to have helped out in some aspect, even if it had winded him and hurt his chest a little.

After a few minutes of silence Arthur sat up and rubbed his face. Alfred deemed at that moment, even though he had slept for longer than him, Arthur looked tired. He looked fed up as he stared at his boots and then adjusted his neck tie around his throat, pulling it forward so it wasn’t chocking him.

“Things just don’t want to go our way do they?”

“Well, we could have been caught by bandits unarmed so things could be worse.”

“We just fell out a tree.”

For the first time since this whole incident began Alfred cracked a genuine smile. Arthur didn’t return it or seem to appreciate it and as soon as it was there it was gone but it had happened. Even the movement felt odd on Alfred’s lips. Heaving a heavy sigh, Arthur rose to his feet and brushed down his clothing, startling when Alfred pulled leaf from his hair. “We should head closer to the border, bandits tend not to go too close because of the occasional patrol.”

“Yeah. At least I know now where we are with our bandit issue,” Alfred mussed as they headed back on their way. Arthur’s eyebrows softened in a look that would have been a smile as Alfred waited for him to watch up, the two walking off together with each other at their side.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

After continuing to walk for several more hours under the wondrous sunshine, Alfred deemed it plausible for a short break. Arthur was surprised when he brought it up, assuming that he would want nothing more than to continue moving forward in their quest back to the castle. Yet, he had no resistance. After the gruelling pace of yesterday his legs were still rather achy and now with the added bonus of falling out of a tree his wounds weren’t fairing to well either. A chance to rest was a welcomed peace.

Not far from the path they walked they found a fallen tree. It had long since fallen and was now part of a small meadow area enclosed by several large trees and an abundance of coloured flowers which took Arthur’s breath away. He made sure to take as many pictures with his brain as he could of such a painting that nature had made as they took a seat on the fallen tree. Arthur couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips as the weight was taken from his feet and he was allowed five minutes of peace in such a wondrous place he never knew existed in his kingdom.

Everything was so peaceful. There was no noise other than the sound of birds twittering above them and the light breeze gently grazing through the grass and leaves, the sun spotted across his skin in comforting warmth as it filtering through the thick trees above him and the flowers reminded Arthur of his garden back home. It was a rare moment and Arthur was nothing but content, even if Alfred was clearly brooding beside him.

He’d left a clean gap between them on the fallen tree trunk, leaning forward in his stance with his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. Arthur knew he was thinking and knew that inevitably a question was coming his way. He hoped it wouldn’t – he wanted to enjoy this peace just for one moment whilst they had it, he wasn’t certain when he would have another moment like this – yet Alfred obviously wanted this off his chest.

“Can you answer me something honestly?” Alfred suddenly spoke up. Arthur’s brows drew close at the strange question that he wasn’t expecting, eyes looking over his husband in slight concern as he remained staring at the ground.

“Yes?”

“Do you think I'm stupid?”

This time Alfred did look up and his expression told Arthur everything. Alfred was not playing games and like a tidal wave Arthur felt panic flood into his chest telling him to run. He could feel where this conversation was leading – he knew exactly where Alfred was about to head with this. He could see the hurt swarming in Alfred’s eyes and he knew exactly why Alfred was speaking to him with the upmost disappointment in his voice.

“Of course not.” Arthur shook his head.

“So you’re aware that I know you were born and raised in that small village we visited yesterday? And I know that ‘safe house’ on the hill was the house where you grew up?”

Arthur had known that this conversation was on the horizon. He’d know that taking Alfred into that small village to Mary and John would only unsettle more troubles between them but it was another risk that he had to take in order to keep them safe. The mere mention of that house coming from Alfred’s lips had Arthur wanting to scold him instantly. He didn’t need Alfred brining up old memories that Arthur had buried long ago, especially during such unstable times where he had much more pressing matters to worry about.

His life was far different to what it once more – he was not the same man and it was not something he ever wanted to relive.

Alfred was his current life. His parents, family friends and old town were not matters in which Alfred needed to concern himself with. He’d spoken as much of his story as he’d deemed necessary, as much as he could without resurfacing the shards of memories that stabbed at his heart. Mary and John were merely piece of a complex past that Arthur had left out of his free will. He didn’t need Alfred to know of them. They were not of his blood and therefore they were not of importance. It was simple really.

“ _Alfred_ ,” Arthur warned, sensing that Alfred was about to press further into a conversation he wanted ending now but it was immediately ignored. Honestly, Arthur should have known better.

“After everything we’ve been through, after all that we’ve done, why didn’t you tell me about Mary and John?” Alfred asked, forcing his eyes onto Arthur so that the question was unescapable. Arthur picked and scratched at the bark of the tree he sat on to keep his fingers busy, trying to ignore the way Alfred sounded so crushed. After everything they _had_ been though why was this the only thing that Alfred wanted to speak to him about? Why couldn’t this wait until everything was over, until they had their home back?

“Is now really the time?”

“No time like the present.”

The fleeting thought of another sleeping sleep crossed Arthur’s mind for barely a few seconds. Perhaps then they really could stay here, lost in the forest forever without the raging noise from the castle or the pressure breathing down his neck to be the strong and perfect Queen he was supposed to be. He could lay in this small meadow for hours with Alfred asleep at his side and just rest, hold him without seeing a glare or hear a stubborn remark, breathe. Arthur would give anything for that.

Yet he knew that his kingdom needed him. It needed him and it needed Alfred and he couldn’t get Alfred back on his throne by dragging his unconscious body through the trees. It would do a number on his wounds along with several hours of guilt ridden silence.

Alfred was being ridiculously persistent; his blue eyes like rock that not even a glare from Arthur could make budge. He swallowed thickly and all he could picture was the mental image of Ivan laughing at him for wasting their valuable time. Time he was happy to give away to rest his legs mere moments ago. Ivan was out there looking for them and here the pair of them sat, on a fallen tree, quarrelling about Arthur’s parentage.

Huffing to display his anger, Arthur gave in. He shuffled off the fallen tree into the long grass, pressing his back against the bark and pulling his knees to his chest. Staring out into the open forest that peered to him behind a large willow tree, he tried to think of a reasonable explanation that he could give. Why exactly had he hidden away his adoptive parents from the one man who could have provided them with everything?

His mind was a mess, his train of thoughts derailed. Ivan was everywhere, located in every crevice of his brain and trying to lure his thoughts away from that was practically impossible. He’d been focused on Ivan for so long that everything else seemed insignificant. Yet, Alfred was demanding this now and Arthur knew that, had his energy held out, he would have discussed it late last night before they slept. Had things been normal Arthur would have put more effort into putting Alfred back in his place, into deterring him from asking him of such things, he would have fought but he was tired of fighting; it was far easier to explain to Alfred than to keep it hidden especially now that he knew.

He supposed that if he, too, found out that Alfred suddenly had parent like figures in his life he would also be curious and demanding to know of them - especially if Alfred had lied to him for years on end. The guilt that began to eat away at Arthur’s stomach didn’t even begin to compare to the anxiety that made his heart beat far too fast against his ribs.

“I…I didn’t tell you because you would have tried to invite them to things: banquets, balls, festivals, you name it. You’d have had their names at the very top of the invite list.”

…

“That’s a bad thing?”

Arthur smiled weakly and held his legs tightly. He could hear the confusion dripping from Alfred’s words; he didn’t need to see the look on his face to match.

“I suppose not, they do deserve it after all. They deserve far more than what they have. I’ve known them for as long as I can remember. They were very good friends with my parents right up until the moment they died. If…If I begin to invite them to the castle and establish that bond between us again…”

Alfred sighed when Arthur’s words drifted off into air, lowering himself into the grass also. Their shoulders touched and the contact almost had Arthur startled, unaware that Alfred would willingly sit himself so close to him after purposely avoiding him for the previous day. Perhaps that moment up in the tree had meant something to him just as much to him as it had meant something to Arthur after all. As little as the gesture was, Arthur took great comfort in it.

“You’re worrying about something that might not happen for a long time.”

“I can’t lose another set of parents Alfred. I cant. If I keep my distance and continue my life without them then perhaps when the time comes the hurt won’t be as great. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Arthur took in a deep breath and stared at his knees. He could feel the familiar burning sensation behind his eyes and the tightness in his throat that always occurred when he so much as thought about his parents. He hated that, so far, all Alfred had seen of him was a weak man whom could barely keep pace and cried at every corner. He wasn’t a baby; he was a Queen capable and worthy of ruling the most powerful of the Four Kingdoms. He hadn’t earnt that title by crying over his parents each breathing moment of his spare time.

Yet here, discussing Mary and John whom had been such influential people in his lives, Arthur had never felt more vulnerable. If Ivan were to leap from the trees and attack them now, for certain both of them would die because Arthur could guarantee his magic would aid him none. His emotions were too out of line, the best it could do was probably play him a lullaby. He could tell that Alfred knew this too. The way he sat closer, angled himself in the grass and stretched an arm out across the fallen tree behind them in indication he wanted to put it around Arthur’s shoulders but wasn’t quite ready to do so just yet.

“Eventually I am going to have to lose the only two people who saw light in me when I saw nothing and when that time comes I-I honestly don’t know what I'm going to do…”

Arthur swallowed the thick lump in his throat and turned his head away as a tear slipped from his eye, swiping at it quickly as he hugged himself.

“T-This is stupid. We need to move, we have Ivan to deal with and…and…”

He visibly jumped when Alfred’s head landed on his shoulder, slowly looking to see the mop of blond resting on his shoulder.

“I’ll be here, right by your side, and we’ll get through it together,” said Alfred gently, sitting up and looking over Arthur with the most genuine look that Arthur had seen from him since they’d left the palace. Perhaps it was the tears that blurred his vision, but he thought that for a mere moment he could see nothing but love shining in Alfred’s eyes like it should have been all the time. Arthur knew he looked a weeping mess, a shoddy excuse for a Queen, but he couldn’t help but nod and lean his head onto Alfred’s shoulder. He was relieved when Alfred’s head nestled atop his own and although Alfred’s arm remained beneath his head and there were no other comforting gestures made toward him Arthur was grateful for the moment.

He spent only a few minutes crying, raising his head dazed and tired and also a little confused. The meadow around him was no longer the beautiful green heaven that Arthur had closed his eyes to when he had buried his head in Alfred’s shoulder. Instead a dusting of white had covered it, sparking beneath the sunshine and Arthur could only blink in disbelief as butterflies danced across the tops of faint snow. Turning back to Alfred he only quirked an eyebrow at him and then looked at the snow, a faint smile pulling his lip upwards.

“I wasn’t going to mention it. Seeing snow fall in the sunshine is strangely peaceful.”

Arthur wiped his eyes and smiled apologetically, noting the snowflakes melting in Alfred’s hair. The King quickly looked away, returning his gaze back to the meadow and Arthur could feel the moment between them melting away just like the snow on the tips of the grass. Within a few seconds it would be gone and Arthur would be alone again; returned to the lonely Queen and the stubborn King they had become in the small two days.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur decided that he wouldn’t be the one left weeping in the grass. So he rose to his feet and made his way out the meadow in the direction that they were going before their break, leaving Alfred behind him. He heard him quickly get up and follow him. Staring ahead, Arthur didn’t look back yet he wondered just how long they could go. How long could they keep having small intimate moments where everything felt just right only for them to throw it away and pretend it never happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was originally much shorter however I decided to squeeze in a scene about Arthur, Mary and John. I have quiet the backstory planned for Arthur.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your reviews for this story. It really does mean the world to me and each review makes me ridiculously happy. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**       

            It was almost laughable how quickly the pair could swap between loving and hating. Without hardly any hesitation the meadow was put behind them and left to drift away into the past. They let it fall away into the distance where it would once again become lost in the maze of trees, unknown to man, where they would unlikely cross its path again. Instead they fell into a routine that repeated for the next three days.

They walked as far as their legs could carry them; scarpering out of sight when they heard any unfamiliar sounds echoing around the woods that they knew did not belong. Within those three days they only came across another group of bandits once, hiding in the base of a large, hollow tree until they passed.

Alfred swore he would never make that mistake again.

He’d realised far too late after Arthur’s quick suggestion that insects and small creatures resided in small, cramped and dark spaces like that. It had taken Arthur five minutes to calm Alfred down enough for them to continue with the journey only after it had taken a previous few minutes to calm himself down first – the pair of highly respected monarchs jumping and squirming around in an attempt to rid their hair and clothing of any insects it may harbour. Neither spoke of the highly embarrassing sounds that they made and had made an agreement that the past should remain in the past for an eternity to come. Thankfully for them, there were no witnesses other than the trees and the birds.

Arthur considered them lucky to have only come across only two bandit groups on their travels thus far.

Slowly they grew used to the pattern that they created, although a tension still lingered in the air above them – one that Arthur was growing rather tired off. He was sick of dancing around Alfred like he was ticking bomb waiting to explode at any given moment. He supposed that perhaps he could partially blame himself for some of that tension, there was so much he wanted to say to Alfred yet he couldn’t find the words. He didn’t know where to start and Alfred didn’t want to hear it.

Every day Alfred seemed to delve deeper into his thoughts and Arthur knew that at some point he really would explode – he dreaded that moment. It would be another argument, a deadly and vicious argument that would set them back. He wasn’t sure they would be able to recover from that. He was struggling to salvage whatever was left of their relationship already.

Yawning, Arthur tried not to let his thoughts trundle off down that dark path once again. Too many times since this whole ordeal had started they had lingered in those dark corners of his mind. It was clouding his judgement and for now he needed that more than anything. If he was busy focused on Alfred and himself then he wasn’t focused on his kingdom. He needed to keep Spades at the forefront of his mind if he were to keep himself strong for the rest of their long trek. They were walking incredibly close to their border with the Heart Kingdom – they needed to be wary of their path.

The Queen’s face contorted into that of pain as he attempted to stretch out his limbs, biting back the wince so Alfred didn’t hear. Ever since their fall from that blasted tree his wounds appeared to be getting worse. He could only presume that the wound on his stomach had reopened, not daring to remove the bandages considering they had no other medical supplies with them and Arthur could do no healing. Ivan sure knew how to be an awful human being sometimes.

“Are you alright?” Arthur’s head snapped up from where he was looking down at his stomach, hand lightly pressed against the bandages tied around his wound. He felt like a startled animal as Alfred stopped in his tracks, blue eyes narrowing as he looked Arthur over, eyes dropping to Arthur’s torso.

“I’m fine,” Arthur reassured him, straightening up and pulling both his jacket and his cloak around him so that Alfred couldn’t see anything as he removed his hand. Arthur tried his best to keep his own worry from his face. He’d noticed himself that ever so slightly he could see the faint outline of a darker colour through his ivory shirt, meaning blood was beginning to seep through his bandages. His wound had definitely opened again. Alfred’s shoulders deflated at his words but his eyes seemed to flare up with emotion that Arthur was certainly not expecting from only two words.

“There you go again with the lying!” His voice was a little louder than necessary and Arthur noticed that his hands flexed in and out of fists as if he wanted to punch something. Or someone.

“I-I’m sorry?” Arthur wasn’t quite sure he fully understood what was happening, nor what Alfred was implying. Arthur was fine. There was no lie there. He wasn’t perfect but he was alright and didn’t need instant attention. There was no need in worrying Alfred with his wounds when they were alright for the time being.

“Stop lying to me! You aren’t fine. You’re hurt. I wear glasses but I'm not blind Arthur.”

“I’m not lying to you. I am fine. When things need brining to your attention I will tell you but for now they don’t so can we continue please or do you feel the need to shout some more?”

Arthur could see instantly that he had struck a nerve. Alfred’s tense shoulders seemed about ready to explode, he was almost shaking, and Arthur knew this was the exact moment he had been dreading not a few moments prior. Maybe he had cursed himself in thinking about it.

“You still think I'm mad at you because of Ivan? Do you really think that I'm mad at you because you saved my life?” Alfred asked, almost laughing in disbelief that he was asking such questions. Arthur could only blink in shock at what was being said. Of course this was about Ivan – there wasn’t anything else that it could have been about.

“You have every right to be mad at me about Ivan. That I can understand. I took you out of a fight that you were in and have been building up to but I saved your bloody life! You could at least act a little more appreciative!” Arthur yelled, finally letting out the built-up anger that he too didn’t know he had.

After several days of not talking to Alfred he had realised that he had done so much and Alfred had thanked him for none of it. He had risked everything in that castle in order to get to him and Alfred had reacted to it like a child.

Alfred appeared to stare at him stunned for a second before his face twisted into anger that mirrored the same expression he had worn that same night they had argued upon the hill.

“I’m not mad about Ivan, Arthur. What I am mad about is that I'm _still_ waiting for you to explain why you lied to me and why you are _still_ lying to me! I thought that when we got married the lies would stop but apparently you made an entire plan behind my back with _my_ council and you haven’t even taken the time to sit down and explain that to me! Why should I be thankful to someone who doesn’t have the decency to explain to me why they continuously lie to their own fucking husband?!” Alfred screeched at him, face red as his voice echoed through the trees with his last words.

Birds that were previously sat peacefully in the tress startled and flew out into the sky, flapping their wings and flying in the opposite direction of Arthur and Alfred’s manic screaming and shouting. Animals fled from their area, leaving the King and Queen in complete and utter silence.

Arthur was frozen in place like the roots of the Earth had tangled around his boots and secured him there. His body felt like stone and his eyes were fixated on Alfred stood only a couple of paces ahead of him. He seemed so much further away. His shoulders shook and his body trembled as his outburst of rage subsided until all his built-up emotions could only escape in tears.

His mighty, confident and charming King of Spades was reduced to nothing but tears all because of him.

This was Arthur’s fault.

It was his actions that had put this torment on Alfred and he’d been living with it for days, waiting for Arthur to say something, anything, that would explain his actions and Arthur had done nothing but stay silent in return. He’d even revealed that he’d been lying all the more with Mary and John. Arthur’s stubbornness to apologise had caused the strongest person he knew to break down. Arthur wanted to throw up with how disgusted he was with himself.

Alfred pulled his glasses from his face and wiped his face of tears, holding his glasses so tightly in his hand that Arthur feared they would break. Arthur wanted to run to him, to hold him, but he couldn’t. He was still stood in shock at the outburst, the remnants of Alfred’s screaming loud and painful in his ears. It was almost as painful as the ever so quiet sobbing coming from in front of him.

Just when Arthur felt like weights had fallen from his shoulders and he was finally free to move the sound of thundering horses sounded through the trees. There was barely any time to react; Arthur’s stomach lurched at the sudden shift in atmosphere and the way Alfred was forced to change into a different man. He rushed over to him, rubbing his eyes and slipping on his glasses as if he weren’t crying merely two seconds earlier.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something but no words came in time; he could only watch with wide eyes as Alfred pulled up his hood to shield himself from whoever was approaching and did the same for Arthur when the Queen did nothing but stare at his face. He avoided his gaze as he did so; not looking at his eyes as he roughly tugged the hood over Arthur’s head.

Within a few seconds horses were surrounding them, their hooves like drums in Arthur’s ears and the ground shaking beneath his feet. He turned around so that his back was pressed against Alfred’s, staring as the group of horse men circled them until they came to a halt using the strong bodies of the horses as a wall so neither Alfred or Arthur could escape.

Arthur’s heart was racing in his chest. So many emotions were flooding his brain that he could barely think straight. He knew that they were clearly in trouble here, surrounded and unarmed and he tried to think of a way out, but every thought was abruptly brought to an end by Alfred’s broken-hearted face reappearing behind his eyes.

“Any sudden movements and orders of attack will be made. Slowly remove the hoods and state your business lurking in the woodland.”

Instantly Arthur thought he recognised the voice, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to pinpoint where he’d heard it before. Lifting his eyes from his boots to the horse in front of him he found that the house before him was chestnut in colour but that had no relevance to Arthur at all. What mattered to him was the finely crafted red and pink saddle strapped upon its back, a vibrant red heart stitched within the leather.

Arthur felt as if his heart missed a couple of beats at the sight, slowly turning and peering over Alfred’s shoulder as he realised why he recognised the man’s voice from before. He _had_ heard that voice before. He’d heard it many times before.

Sat atop horseback in front of Alfred were two very important looking men; their horses angled sideways so that they completed the circle that blocked Arthur and Alfred in their makeshift prison. They looked strikingly alike as they looked down their noses at the two Spade royals.

The first, sat upon a brown and white spotted horse, had muddy red hair that parted evenly in the centre. A stray strand of hair curled to the left side of his head and his golden brown eyes were cautiously looking over the pair, silently searching them.

The other, sat atop a chocolate coloured horse, had dark mahogany hair also with a stray strand that this time curled outwards to the right, as was a known trait within their family. His brown eyes were flecked with green making them a unique earthy tone as his eyebrows angled into a frown. Arthur hadn’t failed to notice the way his hand was hovering over the hilt of his sword just in case he were to need it.

Both wore vibrant red capes that were strapped to their shoulders, floating out and sitting neatly across the back of their horse to show off their royal colours. Arthur had never been so relieved to see the colour red in his entire life. Normally seeing another kingdom’s colours brought him a sense of hesitation but this time it was much more relief.

Naturally, by no means were they safe but Arthur knew these people and he knew their kingdom. There was little chance that harm would come to them here. They still had to be cautious and logical with their decisions but right here, right now, they didn’t have much of a choice but to remove their hoods.

Alfred was obviously hesitant but he was the first of the two to raise his hands. The group of soldiers surrounding them jolted when his arms moved in the slightest but he continued slowly to reach toward his hood, Arthur coping from behind until the pair had removed and lowered the fabric hiding their identities.

As soon as the hoods were discarded and their faces revealed gasps sounded throughout the group of what Arthur presumed to be Heart Knights, his eyes darting around to see the men looking at him as if they had seen ghosts. He didn’t focus on the unfamiliar faces for too long, however, eyes quick to return to the two men he knew as fairly good friends: Jack Feliciano and Ace Lovino of the Heart Kingdom. The two royal brothers appeared almost as shocked as their surrounding knights to see the Spade King and Queen stood before them.

No words were spoken for a moment, an eerily awkward silence blanketing the group as they all stood and stared at each other. Arthur’s eyes were trained on the way Lovino’s fingers twitched above the handle of his sword and he could feel Alfred’s arm held back slightly in front of him as a warning, keeping the Queen pressed behind him.

Even now, after everything, Alfred still wanted to protect him. Alfred’s arm only lowered when he was certain that no danger would come to the two of them but Arthur didn’t drop his guard, even if Lovino’s hand had moved away from his weapon. Although friends he didn’t know who he could trust these days.

“King Alfred of Spades,” Feliciano exhaled, looking over the King several times to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him and doing the same for Arthur before lowering his head. Lovino seemed to need a little more time to get over the initial shock, shaking his head and blinking before letting his lips crack into a small smirk.

“Well, I’ll be dammed,” He whistled, also bowing his head in a short, courteous, greeting. It was as professional as it could be in the middle of the woods and Arthur wasn’t particularly bothered about the royal gestures. At one time in his life he would have been. They would have been important, a big deal, but today they were wasteful and meaningless. Arthur had never felt less like a Queen than he did in that moment, especially after everything that he had done.

“What are you doing out in the woods?” Feliciano asked and Arthur couldn’t blame him for asking the obvious. Even Arthur himself had to ask himself sometimes exactly what it was that he was doing navigating the trees and it had been his idea in the first place.

“We head for Spade Castle. Ivan’s men have forced us to the border to avoid detection. We are working around to get into the castle undetected and gain our advantage when we attack.” Arthur was the one to explain when Alfred’s head turned his way slightly, blue eyes giving him a side glance telling him that he had absolutely no idea what to tell the Heart Royals.

“Attack with what? You two are completely unarmed?” Lovino looked at them curiously, searching their bodies for any hints that they perhaps had a weapons stashed somewhere under their clothing. Arthur wished that they did but they didn’t. Alfred’s sword had been left abandoned on the throne room floor and Arthur’s out in the corridor. The last sword Arthur had used had been Elizaveta’s which was, to his knowledge, still wedged in the throne room door.

“Ah…yes…about that…”

“We don’t have time for this…” Alfred muttered beneath his breath as he eyed up the horses surrounding them. Clearly they were unnerving him, towering above them with their riders poised ready with weapons at their disposal, and Arthur had to agree that time wasted standing here was valuable time that could have been used making headway back into Spades. Alfred was right. They didn’t have time to stand around and chat with old friends.

Despite knowing who they were and their royal status, Arthur couldn’t help but notice both Lovino and Feliciano seemed rather reluctant to remove their makeshift barrier, the holes within their wall of horses seemingly growing smaller upon the lowering of their hoods. It made Arthur more than a little suspicious.

“You are wounded.”

Arthur’s eyes flickered upwards to meet with Feliciano’s, brown eyes already watching him and staring past his gaze to his stomach, directly where his wound was located.

Arthur felt uncomfortable under his stare instantly, fumbling to pull his cloak around him and wishing it had buttons to stop it from opening up so much. It had got him into more than enough trouble these past couple of days. Instead, Feliciano’s eyes simply moved away from him and over to Alfred’s arm, pinpointing the exact location where his wound was even if it was hidden by both his shirt and his cloak. Arthur didn’t want to begin guessing at how he knew they were both wounded never mind how he knew exactly which arm Alfred had hurt.

“We’re fine.” The words tumbled out of Arthur’s mouth so easily and he realised instantly that these were the same words he had been telling Alfred for the past three days. Almost like they had some sort of trigger attached to them, Arthur recoiled from his own words, eyes going wide and turning to see Alfred sadly looking at him but turning his head away the instant green met with blue.

Out the corner of his eye he saw Feliciano and Lovino share a look but thankfully they kept their thoughts to themselves as Feliciano turned his attention back to them.

“Come to Heart Castle. We will provide you with what you need to be on your way. Continuing like this will only get you killed sooner. If Ivan’s men are as persistent as you say then it will not be long before they figure out you are using the border as a way around to the castle. They will not think to search Hearts. Why would two Spade royals determined to reclaim their home journey to another kingdom?” Feliciano’s eyes seemed to burn with a determination that Arthur thought similar to that he felt upon the night of the invasion. He’d felt nothing but panicked determination to reach Alfred in that moment. He could see Feliciano’s eyes flaming with that same fire to help.

Yet Arthur could only stare at him with a face of utter shock. Feliciano had no idea that he would meet Alfred and Arthur out here in the woods today. He had no orders from his King or Queen to aid them should he come across them. Offering such help without the consultation of his fellow royals could cost him everything. Arthur wasn’t fully convinced that Feliciano fully understood the risks in what he was offering.

In aiding Spades, Hearts would be turning their backs on Clubs and in doing so would become automatic enemies of Ivan. Wisely, both Hearts and Diamonds had stayed clear of the two quarrelling kingdoms for this exact reason. Feliciano’s offer was a dangerous one, not only for him but for his entire kingdom. If Ivan found out that Hearts were harbouring Alfred he would come for the Heart Kingdom with a vengeance. He would rain terror upon the streets of Hearts as if it were merely a walk in the park.

“Feliciano, I can’t ask you to do something like that for us,” Alfred said with a slight quiver in his voice as he realised what it would mean if he accepted such an offer. Arthur himself, however, was quiet torn on the matter.

By no means did he want to drag Feliciano, his brother and the entire kingdom of Hearts into their battle. He didn’t want their blood on his hands. This was their fight and their fight alone – he didn’t want anyone else getting hurt because of them.

Yet at the same time Feliciano was offering supplies that they so desperately needed. If they were to continue Arthur needed to tend to his wounds – a royal doctor would be immensely helpful in getting his wounds on the right track to recovery. Without treatment, his magic would weaken with the wounds until he would be nothing but a walking burden on Alfred’s back. Not only that but they could ask for weapons, food and perhaps even haggle for some horses too. Riding the rest of the way to Spades would be much faster than by foot.

“You aren’t asking. I'm clearly offering.”

“Feli just- just stop and think about this for a minute will you?” Lovino looked severely unsure with everything his brother had offered and was obviously uncomfortable, fidgeting with a gold ring on a chain hung around his neck. His eyes were darting around the place but he forced them onto his brother as he silently pleaded him to reconsider the offer he was making. Unfortunately for Lovino, although younger, Feliciano was of higher statue and therefore Lovino’s voice was overruled by whatever Feliciano judged to be right.

“Lovi, I don’t need to think about it. Spades needs aid and Hearts will answer. I know King Ludwig, were it him here today he would not turn his back on such good friends. Please, let us help you.” Feliciano gave a warm smile and held out his hand, lowering it down to Alfred.

At first Alfred did nothing in response, only turning his head to look at Arthur in silent question. It was a question that Arthur could not answer. For the first time in a long time he was unable to help his King in a difficult situation. This was a decision that only Alfred could determine the outcome. Alfred was the King and as his Queen and his husband Arthur would follow no matter his choice.

Had the circumstances not involved potentially brining another kingdom into war perhaps the decision might not have been so difficult. Accepting Feliciano’s offer could bring terror and destruction upon Hearts but declining it would deny both of them the supplies they desperately needed in order to save their home. Either way, one kingdom would lose out to the other.

Arthur could only watch as Alfred bit his lip, looking over in the direction they were once heading before they had been caught by the Heart’s entourage. Arthur’s heat raced in his chest and his fingers twitched with nerves until the young King heaved a heavy sigh and approached Feliciano’s horse. He looked up to him and gave him a single, stern nod.

“Alright.”

Clearly Alfred was still not certain with his answer as he took hold of Feliciano’s hand with his good arm. Feliciano looked pleased with the decision, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled Alfred up onto the back of his horse and leaving Arthur stood awkwardly in the centre of the circle that quickly dissipated as the knights were told to resume their normal duties, scoping out the woods around them. Arthur thought he saw the slightest signs of discomfort pass over Alfred’s face as he settled behind Feliciano and held onto his shoulders but the minute Alfred caught him frowning it vanished. Instead, his attention focused on Arthur, watching closely as Lovino offered his hand.

For a moment Arthur only stared at it, hesitant but also in agreement with his King’s decision as he slipped his hand firmly into Lovino’s grip. He couldn’t hide his own groan of discomfort as he was hauled up onto the back of Lovino’s horse, throwing himself up and latching onto Lovino’s shoulders to get it over with quickly. He made sure to give Alfred another quick glance, a silent gesture to signal that he was alright and to make sure that the pain he had seen on Alfred’s face wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. However, all he received in return was a mere disinterested once over by tired blue eyes still slightly red from his tears before Feliciano’s horse moved off ahead.

Arthur did his best not to pout although he felt very much like he wanted to in that moment as he held Lovino’s shoulders firmly, the Ace guiding their horse to follow. Arthur could feel the exact moment they crossed the border from Spades into Hearts, the familiarity of home leaving him and the tugging in his heart that guided him home disappearing in mere seconds. Yet he could only watch as the scenery around them stayed the same, stretching on for miles as they rode off in the direction of the Heart Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is actually quite a short chapter in comparison to the others however quite a bit happens. Finally, we get some communication going between the two, even if it’s in the form of arguing. I can assure you that from this point onwards things will get better between the two! I think they’ve been through enough that I start giving them some well-deserved fluff. 
> 
> I hope you’ve all had a lovely holiday season and Happy New Year! I started this fic so long ago and never posted it but now that I finally have I can honestly say I’m overwhelmed with your lovely comments. To see that you’re enjoying this story means more to me than I can ever put into words so thank you. Thank you so much. 
> 
> I will see you guys in the new year!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

            “Getting you into Hearts undetected won’t be easy. Blue doesn’t exactly blend in amongst a city of red,” Lovino mentioned as they rode, spouting nothing but truth. If they were going to do this, they couldn’t exactly walk into Hearts and not expect people to talk. Arthur’s eyes were already staring at the stark difference between the royal blue of his cloak and the crimson red of Lovino’s cape that draped across his knee so he wasn’t sat on it. He and Alfred stood out for miles already and they’d barely even reached the city; something as simple as two blue hooded figures riding with the Heart royals would be enough to set Ivan on their tracks. He’d catch up to them in no time at all and then all hope really would be lost.

“We need a plan. Something that will get us into your city without it being recognised as unnatural,” said Arthur, Lovino turning his head to glance at him over his shoulder and silently check he was still settled comfortably. Arthur gave his shoulder’s a firm squeeze to reassure him that he was fine, aware that Lovino was worrying about his wounds simply from the way he was keeping the horse so steady – that and there was no need to rush when there was no plan in place anyway.

The rest of Feliciano’s knights were spread out around them, going about their trip as had been planned before they had met with Alfred and Arthur. They had been ordered to look for any suspicious behaviour within the trees, mainly bandits or lone travellers, whilst their royals were occupied with the now more important matter of smuggling Spade royals into the city.

“I have something but it’s highly demoralising to ask of you. I’m unsure if it is even my place to even suggest such things to you,” Feliciano’s voice was quiet in thought as he gently toyed with his horses’ mane, head bowed forward to watch his own hands. Arthur was sure this was the first time he’d ever heard the Heart Jack ever speak with so much reservation and he could feel Lovino’s shoulders tense ever so slightly at the sudden chance in his brother’s voice. Behind him, Alfred gave Arthur a brief yet unimpressed glance that told Arthur he was growing impatient quickly, an eye roll joining said glance before he shook Feliciano’s shoulders lightly.

“As King I give you permission. At this point I'm open to suggestions and I'm rather desperate.”

Feliciano still looked unsure and hesitant, head turning over his shoulder to stare at the Spade King for a moment but he eventually nodded. With a deep breath to calm himself, his eyes moved over to Lovino. “Follow me,” he said, digging his heels into the side of his horse and setting it off into a sudden gallop, darting forward into the trees.

Arthur worried as he saw Alfred almost fall off the back, hands latching desperately around the only thing he could hold onto – Feliciano. His arms locked tightly around the Jack’s middle in fright that he would fall as his blond hair seemed to disappear into the thick green of the forest ahead of them.

Arthur didn’t need a warning of his own, already wrapping his arms around Lovino’s waist to hold himself steady – he hated the awkwardness that he created and the uncomfortable feeling that sat within the pit of his stomach but the fear of falling and wounding himself further was far greater. He could feel that Lovino was also uncomfortable but he knew it was bound to happen. Both he and Lovino were not the touchy-feely type unless it was with someone they were comfortable with.

However, like true professional royals, they brushed it off and pressed on. Lovino ordered his horse forward after his brother, yelling orders out across the open space to his men to follow his lead, as the sound of thundering horse shoes raced through the forest once more.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

When Feliciano had said the word ‘demoralising’ Alfred hadn’t been certain exactly what that entailed. Hundreds of scenarios had blurred past his vision but had been too fast for him to focus on. His mind was a mess of emotions, thoughts and actions all of which he had to frantically place into an order of priority. It was a lot harder than he ever thought it would be. Putting his feelings for Arthur and everything he wanted to say to him second was something he never thought he would have to do. But Spades would always come first. As a King he had no other choice.

A visit to King Ludwig had never been a card upon his table but now that the situation had risen in front of him it wasn’t one that he could simply pass up. Ludwig could provide most needed resources and information that he would need in order to push Ivan out of his kingdom completely – if he didn’t kill him that was. Alfred was still unsure of his own endgame.

What Alfred hadn’t pictured, however, was walking on the ground beside Feliciano’s horse with his wrists bound in shackles and tied to said horse with an old, tattered, brown cloak thrown over his head and shoulders. The hood was much too large and covered his head much like a bag, hanging forward over his forehead even when he looked forward. As had been discussed, however, Alfred stared only at his feet instead of where he was going, trusting in Feliciano’s guidance.

As was only natural, he much preferred the comfort of his own cloak from his own kingdom. It was made with much better fabrics and the colour was far more to his taste but he supposed that brown was much more subtle and less likely to stand so stark against red. Now all he had to do was make sure that the cloak stayed pulled across his shirt so that the blue tunic beneath didn’t peep out and ruin their cover.

Beside him, Arthur was wearing an identical cloak – it was even bigger on his smaller frame – and also had his hands bound in shackles although he was far less pleased with their new arrangement. Sure, as a highly respected King, being treated as a criminal wasn’t on his to-to list either but it was getting them into the kingdom fairly undetected so he wasn’t about to start voicing his complaints.

Feliciano had explained that his reasoning behind such a plan as this was that he and his men had been doing rounds of their borders recently and arresting bandits and thieves trading stolen goods across from the Four Kingdoms. Their trips had become successful over the last few weeks and so returning with hooded figures in shackles wouldn’t be an uncommon sight upon the streets of Arberg.

Alfred hadn’t been on board at first. The plan was highly insulting and was indeed treating both Alfred and Arthur as if they were criminals – Lovino had even apologised on his brother’s behalf at the mention of such a plan. Although from separate kingdoms, Alfred and Arthur were still King and Queen. Their ranks still outweighed that of a Jack and an Ace. It had taken a lot of convincing from Alfred once he was on board to get Arthur to come around to the idea, even more so when Feliciano bought out the shackles. However, he’d managed to get them onto the Queen and so far things were working remarkably well.

“We’re on the main street. Keep your head low and don’t draw too much attention to yourself,” Feliciano whispered down to him and had Alfred not been listening out for some sort of instruction he may have missed it amongst the hoof noises in his ears.

Sparing a glance upwards, Alfred lifted his eyes to see the Heart Castle towering over them. He hadn’t seen the castle in a long time and the sight would have taken his breath away had it been a time where he could really see the castle for what it was. Instead of seeing the beauty of its pastel walls, grand structure and elegant statues all Alfred could see was the promise of safety. Inside those walls he could be safe. Ivan couldn’t get him inside those stone walls – at least not immediately anyway.

It was a bitter sweet feeling. He wanted to feel something more than a desperate need to cower behind the walls of someone else’s home but now more than ever he just wanted to hide. As soon as those doors closed behind him he could have a few hours where Ivan and his men couldn’t get him. Alfred could barely remember what that felt like.

Azure eyes turned from the castle to see Arthur, hood hiding his face, but even Alfred could tell he was staring up at the magnificent sight in awe. Heart Castle was certainly a sight Alfred found warming and he wondered if Arthur saw safety behind those walls as much as he did.

As if to keep their thoughts on track, Lovino’s boot came out of nowhere and kicked at Arthur’s shoulder. Although it was only a gentle nudge to keep them going, it was with enough force to send the Queen stumbling forward. Alfred was thankful it wasn’t Arthur’s wounded shoulder that had received the sudden blow and automatically jostled in the chains around his wrists – forgetting he couldn’t catch Arthur with them on. Feliciano gave a small tug on his chains to remind him of the character he was to play but Alfred didn’t look at him, his anger spiked at the highly unneeded action.

Light laughter came from the streets around them and Alfred realised that several small bundles of people had gathered to see them arrive. Or, more accurately, had come to see their royals return with more ‘criminals’ that were being taken to the castle for sentencing.

Fortunately, Arthur managed to keep his balance and regained his footing, muttering lowly incoherent things, presumably about Lovino, as he kept his head low and continued walking, kicking at the ground as he went. Alfred watched for a second just to make sure he was alright before his head also lowered to his feet on the cobble stone floor.

Once they reached the castle doors, Feliciano and Lovino dismounted their horses and grabbed Alfred and Arthur’s shackles respectively, dragging them into the castle – keeping up their act whilst being as respectful to their guests as possible. Their horses were left outside, along with their knights, and Alfred heard Feliciano asking for them to be attended to, people swooping in and taking them to the stables immediately.

Inside Heart Castle, Alfred felt very unsettled.

Servants were singing and whistling as they cleaned, walking around the corridors and going about their daily duties with a spring in their step, each one never hesitating to stop everything to wish their Jack and Ace a good afternoon. Both Lovino and Feliciano responded with kind greetings and friendly smiles even if they were just passing. Even the sunlight filtering through the rose tinted windows made Alfred feel as if this was all just a dream.

His castle hadn’t looked like this in months. When was the last time he had spared a smile to one of his servants? When was the last time he’d wished someone good afternoon? When was the last time he’d even wished _Arthur_ good anything?

As they worked their way through the castle, Feliciano politely flagged down a passing woman and asked her if she knew the whereabouts of their King and Queen. She was overjoyed to help and with a cheery smile replied that they were in the throne room discussing private matters. This caused a shared look of concern to pass between Feliciano and Lovino but Alfred pretended he didn’t see as the two Heart Royals thanked her for her time. She gave a final bow before the group pressed on. Not once did she seem threated or surprised by a pair of supposed criminals casually stood beside her royals, as if this was an everyday occurrence.

Alfred said nothing as he was pulled down the halls, afraid that if he were to speak his voice would shattered their disguise. That and he was lost for words anyway. In fact, he was rather glad he didn’t have to speak at all for the time being. So he followed, led by the constant tugging on his wrists as he was dragged all the way to the throne room where Feliciano simply waved his hand at the guards and expected them to open the doors for him.

They hesitated, unsure, and when Feliciano didn’t slow his pace rushed to throw open the doors. They were pushed open just as Feliciano reached them with Alfred stumbling behind him, his better judgment telling him to slow so not to hit the doors – Feliciano got incredibly strong when he was determined to go somewhere. Lovino had the sensibility to be a little more hesitant about bursting in on his busy King and Queen, walking a few steps behind with Arthur in tow and making sure that the doors were closed firmly behind them with no guards to listen in on them.

The throne room was just as beautiful as Alfred remembered it. Open and grand, its ceiling stood high and its marble floor shone with the sun’s rays filtering through the many windows. Hearts had always been about its architecture and at its centre the throne room was one of the most beautiful rooms in the castle with its thick columns and intricately deigned ceiling that dated back centuries to before writings of it were even documented. Alfred knew that Feliciano was obsessed with the ceiling in the throne room.

Currently, it was completely empty apart from the Heart King and Queen sat in their thrones at the far end of the room, twisted in their thrones to face each other and very much in the middle of an important looking discussion. Clearly Feliciano’s dramatic entrance was not of normal behaviour from the look on their faces; Alfred was deemed only worthy of a highly unimpressed glance from the Heart King before his eyes were returned to Feliciano at his side. Apparently their ruse as criminals worked well enough to fool the King himself. The Heart Queen, however, hardly seemed interested in Alfred. His eyes glossed right over him and Alfred could only assume that his eyes were following either Lovino or Arthur.

“King Ludwig. Queen Kiku. Excuse my rather undignified entrance but this news is of most urgency.”

Feliciano’s voice was strong and clear within the throne room, almost like that of a King speaking to his citizens as he straightened his back and stood before his royals. Ludwig nodded and Alfred was caught off guard when Feliciano violently threw him to the floor in the centre of the room in front of him. He landed on his knees painfully and bit his lower lip in order to stop himself from saying something – Feliciano was enjoying this power over him a little too much. Arthur was also forced to his knees beside him with another quiet grumbled about Lovino, shackles clinking with obvious discomfort. Alfred couldn’t wait to be free of them.

“Feliciano, what is the meaning of this? You know all criminals caught on your trips must spend time in the dungeons and await trial until later dates. We are far too busy with-”

“Ludwig.” The King blinked in surprise at being interrupted and Alfred looked up just enough to see that even Queen Kiku looked stunned at the confident outburst of the Jack. “These are no criminals.”

Feliciano’s voice was gentle as he yanked back Alfred’s hood, Lovino doing the same in unison. Alfred’s eyes instantly looked up the moment he felt the fabric shift off his hair and met with the icy blue stare of Ludwig’s eyes, watching as they widened in shock before they dawned with realisation. Slowly, he stood from his throne. His eyes never left Alfred’s and for the briefest of moments Alfred was completely unsure as to what Ludwig’s reaction would be.

Feliciano had brought them here – snuck them into Ludwig’s castle completely undetected. There was no telling how on Earth Ludwig would react. For all Alfred knew he could easily keep them bound in chains and hand them over to Ivan’s waiting arms if he so wanted. He just had to trust that his previously healthy relationship with the Heart King would remain strong and aid him in a time where he needed all the help he could get.

Beside the Heart King, Kiku remained seated in his throne almost expressionless; however, his eyes were fixated on Arthur as if he were merely a mirage. Although Alfred only got a brief glance, he was certain that something in his brown eyes was different but as quickly as it was there it was gone again the moment Ludwig began to descend the small stairs toward Alfred. Instantly, the Spade King swallowed and his stomach sank to new lows uncertain that he could fight off Ludwig in chains. Fortunately, despite his threatening stance, he motioned for Feliciano to release him of his bounds.

Instantly Alfred rose to his feet, holding out his wrists as Feliciano quickly set to work removing his shackles, unlocking them and pulling them from his wrists. It felt like bricks had been untied from his arms and he rubbed at the raw skin around his wrists, turning to check that Arthur had been released just as easily. His bounds had just fallen into Lovino’s hands when he looked, Arthur sighing contently to have his wrists back.

Taking in a deep breath, Alfred turned back to face Ludwig with a real sense of anticipation. He was ready to explain his entire situation, lay it all down on the ground and beg if he so had to. All he needed was for Ludwig not to give him over to Ivan – all he wanted was for one moment of peace, one moment to just shut Ivan out and think about something else that wasn’t the Club King. He just needed to organize his thoughts for two moments - that was all he needed.

Instead of all that, Alfred’s entire body stiffed as the Heart King opened up his arms and enveloped him into a tight, warm embrace.

Alfred had never been hugged by Ludwig before and had heard he wasn’t the hugging type. He could tell. The hug was awkward and Ludwig was all brawn and muscle but that one hug meant so much to Alfred that he didn’t care. After the initial shock wore off, he latched onto the other King like he were the only lifeline he had, hugging and gripping at Ludwig’s clothing tightly. Biting at his cheek was the only way he could think to try and fight off the overwhelming desire to cry.

“It’s good to see you Alfred,” said Ludwig softly, patting his back and allowing Alfred to hold him for a few moments longer before placing his hands up on Alfred’s shoulders and separating them so he could look him over.

In that moment, Alfred had never felt so young.

Although Ludwig was only a few years older them him, Alfred was still the youngest King to ever rule. Ludwig squeezed his shoulders, still observing him, and Alfred nodded with a weak smile, his lip quivering as everything began to catch up to him. Not even the wound on his arm or the ache in his ribs bothered him as much as the emotional trauma that was coming around to bite him in the ass.

“I-It’s good to see you too Ludwig. A great relief actually.” Alfred’s voice wavered slightly but he was glad he managed to actually voice his words properly, fighting through the tears as he swallowed them back. Quickly he regained control of his emotions, putting them back in check with a clearing of his throat.

He felt slightly embarrassed that all the other royals had been witness to such a raw display of emotion – he had practically clung to his fellow King like a lost son being reunited with his father – yet Alfred found that the gazes of his peers were not judgemental in the slightest. Most of them were smiling warmly at him. Even Arthur appeared to have a genuine smile gracing his lips for the first time in weeks, his shoulders relaxed to some sort of degree as Kiku had left his throne to greet him.

“I can’t imagine the events you have suffered through, please, by all means, take as much time as you need here in Hearts to recover and regain your strength.”

“Thank you. I will be forever grateful for this,” Alfred said as he held out his hand for Ludwig to shake, the two sharing in a firm handshake that would have been their normal greeting had the circumstances been different.

Ludwig then shifted over to Arthur, politely sharing a handshake with the Spade Queen as he, too, welcomed him to Heart Castle. Arthur thanked Ludwig for his kindness before Ludwig turned to address them all. Alfred didn’t fail to notice the way Arthur looked at Ludwig’s attire and then his own as if by shaking his hand he had somehow stained the Heart King with muck and grime.

“You must be tired after such a long journey. I’m sure you are in desperate need of rest.”

Ludwig’s eyes looked over the two Spade Royals, smiling slightly when neither of them responded before he turned to Lovino.

“Lovino, please take our guests to the guest chambers. You will find comfort there. I shall have a feast prepared for dinner this evening where we will discuss matters further; I doubt the woodland has provided you with much nutrition. For now, I think it is important that you both rest.”

Lovino bowed his head in acknowledgement of Ludwig’s orders and made a small motion for the two Spade Royals to follow his lead. Alfred gave Ludwig a smile and a thankful nod of his head at such a thoughtful and kind gesture – the simple thought of being able to sit upon a bed had Alfred almost excited. He could see that behind Ludwig’s concern for them he was thinking deeply about other things but he didn’t press, turning to follow Lovino’s lead.

As much as he knew that Ludwig would be confused upon their arrival, he was thankful his fellow King had not asked about his circumstances. Ivan was a topic that he could discuss for hours yet today had felt far longer than most for Alfred. It seemed so long ago that he had been stood in the woodland with Arthur, screaming at him. He wanted to curl up and sleep – to sleep it away and hope it wouldn’t come back around but he knew it would. Nothing difficult in his life had ever gone away easily. He was confused and as much as he wanted to go home and fight Ivan, he also wanted Arthur back. In the moment, he felt like he couldn’t have both.

When Arthur hesitated at Ludwig’s voice speaking once more he pressed an encouraging hand on the small of his back and gently guided him out the room. Although it sounded serious, Alfred knew it was not his place to interfere even if he was fully aware that he would very much be the centre of conversation.

“Feliciano. A word if you please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Welcome to the Heart Kingdom! In this chapter we briefly meet our Heart Royals. Don’t worry, they’ll be coming up a lot in the next couple of chapters. Alfred and Arthur’s stay within the Heart Kingdom is rather important. 
> 
> For those who are curious:  
> • Arberg is the Capital of Hearts  
> • Albion is the Capital of Spades  
> • Rassvet is the Capital of Clubs  
> • And Ivoriry is the Capital of Diamonds. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

            Ludwig waited.

Unfamiliar tension circled the space between the three of them but he was patient, refusing to acknowledge it as such until the doors were firmly closed and he knew his royal guests were completely out of ear shot before speaking a word of any sort of conversation.

He let his eyes linger on the throne room doors for a brief moment where Lovino had closed them; he could still see those olive eyes burnt into his memory, warning him in a not-quite-glare to go easy on his little brother. As a friend that was something that he could have easily done. But as a King he couldn’t let something so careless slip past him without some stern words of warning.

With a deep breath he turned to face Feliciano. His hands were clasped behind his back and he was staring at the floor beneath his boots, ready and waiting to be pelted with words of anger from Ludwig, yet the King couldn’t find it in his heart to start with furious shouting. That’s not how he wanted this conversation to go. Simply yelling at Feliciano would get them nowhere.

He knew that Feliciano had been thinking with his heart – that’s what their entire kingdom was founded upon – and as endearing as that was, Ludwig couldn’t let his personal opinions cloud his judgement. He had to keep an open mind that remained unbiased. He had to remind himself of what he would do had this been anyone but Feliciano. What he would have done had anyone else been stood before him but this kind-hearted, cheerful, and eager to please Jack. The risks that he had taken by bringing Alfred into Hearts without thinking thoroughly were too great.

“Feliciano what were you thinking?” He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple at the headache forming already. They’d barely even begun.

“You didn’t expect me to just leave them there did you?” Feliciano muttered, scuffing his boot against the marble floor before lifting his head so that his eyes met with Ludwig’s. There was a fire in his eyes that told Ludwig he was ready to fight for his cause. He admired Feliciano’s passion and drive – it made him a brilliant royal and he was well loved by the people. Ludwig was glad to have him at his side but it made him awfully difficult to argue with.

“Of course not, I just wish that you would think a little before you speak. By bringing them directly into the castle you have put this entire kingdom at risk along with everyone in it.”

“Isn’t that a small price to pay if they get rid of a large threat like Ivan?”

“Feliciano you aren’t seeing the point. In a split second decision you put an entire kingdom of lives on the line. By bringing a fugitive here you have-”

“Fugitive? Alfred’s a fugitive now?!” Feliciano’s voice was much louder than Ludwig’s as it interrupted him, disbelief in his tone at his King’s choice of words.

Ludwig had known from the start that his planned conversation would only end in an argument. He knew Feliciano far too well. Although happy, bubbly and kind he was awfully like his older brother when it came down to his temper. He fought strongly for what he believed to be right and although both Ludwig and Kiku found that a charming quality it didn’t help when it came to disagreements. Feliciano was not the argumentative type however once that switch had been activated Ludwig had come to learn that it more than not ended in tears.

“He might as well be! Ivan is out for his head and he will kill anyone who stands in his path. You had many opportunities at your disposal upon finding Alfred in those woods. You could have taken him to a safe house on the edge of the kingdom. I would have gladly sent supplies and yet you chose to bring them here, to the heart of our kingdom where you have placed each and every one of us in Ivan’s murderous war path.”

Ludwig hated raising his voice and he knew where he was about to take this conversation – he didn’t want to by no means but he knew he had to. It was the only way he was going to make Feliciano see. He had to make it personal to him. He had to make him aware to just what his impulsive decision had done to those around him.

“Is this fear Ludwig? Are you scared of him?”

Ludwig paused for a moment, not expecting his Jack to speak so out of place with such accusations. Feliciano’s head was tilted to the side ever so slightly, questioning, and he was frowning deeply as if disgusted he was having to ask such a question. Ludwig narrowed his eyes in a silent warning and ignored his remarkably bold comments, choosing to continue with his own speech. Now was not the time to change to topic nor to be distracted by Ivan. This was about Feliciano and his actions. Ludwig had to make him understand.

“Without consulting anyone you took the lives of thousands and put them in Ivan’s path. You took Lovino’s life right out his own hands and placed it directly into Ivan’s war path. Right at this very moment in time your brother is the only man stood between Ivan and his target. Do you understand now?”

Feliciano hesitated, eyes narrowing on Ludwig for daring to even use Lovino as an example but Ludwig could see that he was getting somewhere. He could see the realisation dawning within his eyes as he registered that Ludwig was right. At this very moment the only person between Ivan and his enemies was Lovino – the only reason that had come to be was very much because of Feliciano himself.

The Jack swallowed and balled his shaking fingers into his fists at his sides in an attempt to stop them jittering. Ludwig wanted the yelling to stop, for the arguing to stop, for the blame to stop.

They didn’t have these sorts of arguments often here in Hearts but when they did it usually happened with a bang. Most of the time the three of them would part their separate ways for a couple of hours to cool down before duties brought them back together and forced them into agreement once more. He hadn’t failed to notice the way his Queen had been awfully quiet and reluctant to voice his opinions throughout their argument thus far.

“I didn’t have anyone to consult with.” Feliciano’s voice was a lot quieter than it was before, his head held low as if he were speaking only with the ground. “I was out there on my own and I only did as I thought my King would do. Is that not my job? Is that not what a Jack does in this world?” His eyes lifted, skipping over Ludwig, to look over at his Queen who had remained silent.

Kiku had returned to his throne during all the shouting, observing and thinking upon the words being tossed around. Ludwig also turned to look back at his fellow royal to see Kiku’s dark eyes watching Feliciano as if he were trying to read him, like a book, and see a little deeper between the lines.

“You a right in that consultation between Ludwig and I was not possible. However, Lovino was at your side. I saw the hesitation when he walked into the room; it looks as if you didn’t even attempt to ask his thoughts on this matter.”

The Queen’s words appeared to shatter whatever hopes Feliciano had left as his shoulders deflated and his eyes welled with sudden tears. Ludwig bit at his lip at how Kiku phrased his words so harshly as he saw Feliciano react to them, watching as his eyes darted between the two royals that supressed his own rank as Jack.

“I don’t need to consult in an Ace before making any decision. I am the Jack of Hearts! I do my job the way I see fit and I do it well. King Alfred needs our help and in sitting here questing my authority that is valuable time wasted! You act as if you aren’t happy to see him!” Feliciano’s voice shook from the tears he was holding back. Ludwig knew that he hated confrontation – he especially hated confrontation when it was between the three of them.

Ludwig took a step forward and instantly Feliciano took one back, brown eyes watching him warily. Kiku said nothing from his throne but Ludwig could feel his eyes on his back as he tried to hide the stab of hurt that was like a slap to the face. Feliciano never stepped away from him. He supposed he could see why but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Feliciano thought they were questioning his position as Jack but Ludwig would never doubt that – Feliciano, although sometimes rash with his decisions, was a brilliant Jack. He would never want another.

“I would never question your authority Feliciano. I’m thankful to have you at my side each day. I am only trying to make you see the seriousness of your decisions. Split second thinking has consequences that go beyond you and me. You need to think of every other person that lives within this kingdom,” Ludwig sighed, rubbing his forehead that was now definitely pulsing with a headache. He wanted nothing more than to turn Feliciano away and to be done with their conversation. He was tired and reluctant to continue. However, as Feliciano opened his mouth to respond Ludwig went to cut him off. As tired as he was, he wasn’t quite finished. There was something the Jack had mentioned that Ludwig was in no frame of mind to let him get away with.

“However, in regards to Alfred, don’t you dare assume that I am not happy to see him. I am delighted to see that the young king is even alive. I honestly thought the worst. Why do you think my reaction was so out of the ordinary? After everything that Alfred has most likely been through in these last few days did no one think that the only thing he might want to see is a friendly face?”

The throne room instantly fell silent at his words as Feliciano looked up from his feet, brown eyes widened as a single tear fell free. He quickly moved to wipe it away and Ludwig could almost see what appeared to be guilt plough down on Feliciano like weights had dropped down from the sky onto his shoulders. He couldn’t understand why but the more the Jack seemed to think the tenser his shoulders became and his skin paled as if he were going to be sick.

It was a complete change in atmosphere that had Ludwig’s head spinning.

“I-I need to go…” Feliciano mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else before he turned on his heel and darted out the room. Ludwig called out after him feeling absolutely awful that the last thing he had said was nothing but angry yelling but he doubted his voice reached the Heart Jack. Confused, he simply watched as the throne room doors swung shut again as Feliciano left and the room feel into empty silence once more. With a heavy sigh he ran a hand over his face and returned to the comfort of his throne, thankful when Kiku remained silent as his side.

**XxXxXx**

Leaving the throne room had been surprisingly difficult and had Alfred’s had not pressed against the small of his back and practically pushed him out the doors, Arthur might have turned around and gone back out of guilt. Even as they were led through the castle corridors a small part of him nagged to go back; to turn around and explain to Ludwig then and there so that Feliciano wouldn’t have to but he knew that it wasn’t his fight – his fight was elsewhere.

Lovino, as ordered, guided them through the castle toward the guest chambers. Arthur automatically assumed that they would be shuffled through secret servant corridors or forced to walk the halls with the hoods up however Lovino assured them neither were necessary. Instead they were taken through the beautiful stone hallways of Heart Castle where many of the windows were letting in the afternoon sunlight; occasionally they came across the odd rose tainted window which cast pink hues across the floors for them to walk across.

Despite Lovino’s reassurance, Arthur stilled worried about walking about so freely. Although those they did pass started openly at the two Spade Royals like they were spirits – Arthur was getting rather used to people looking at him like he was supposed to be dead – they never uttered a single word and simply continued with their work. Ludwig certainly had his castle under lock and key.

As they climbed higher into the castle, the hustle and bustle of people began to thin out until they reached the silent hallways of the guest chambers. Both he and Alfred had stayed here several times on previous trips to the Heart Kingdom. The corridor was quietly cornered off to given them some much needed peace (Arthur was thankful) and armoured guards were already stationed outside the doors.

“I’ll send for the royal doctor immediately, he should be up shortly to tend to your wounds. Until then, rest and then I’ll make sure someone comes to get you for dinner this evening. I bet journeying across kingdoms brings up an appetite,” Lovino chuckled before bowing at the waist. Alfred smiled although it was small and barely there with a nod of his head.

“Thank you Lovino.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank Ludwig. You’re going to need all your strength if you want your throne back so get some rest and listen to the doctor when he comes to see you. Trust me; he’s good at what he does.”

With that Lovino bowed his head to each of them and left, turning on his heel and returning the way they had arrived, red cape fluttering out behind him as he disappeared. Arthur watched him leave until he was completely out of sight before he followed Alfred into the guest chambers.

The guards kindly closed the doors behind him and Arthur couldn’t help the smile that tugged his lips upwards. The large open room was neatly made up for them. The bed caught Arthur’s eye instantly. It looked so comfortable, with lots of red and pink pillows positioned upon it just ready to be bounced and lain on. The balcony doors were open allowing the soft pink curtains the flutter in the gentle breeze, the faint noise of the busy market streets reaching up to them.

It almost felt like home. It almost felt normal.

Alfred looked like a small child as he stopped a few steps ahead of him before darting into the room, launching at the bed and bouncing amongst the pillows as he landed. Some of the pillows flew of the bed onto the floor as Alfred sighed in content, sinking into the high quality mattress and sheets as he was buried beneath the mountain of pillows.

Arthur watched him from beside the doors still for a moment before moving into the room, moving over to beside the balcony doors where a small dresser, table, chair and mirror were set up. The light breeze was cooling on his face and felt almost heavenly. From the bed, Arthur heard another sigh although heavier this time – it sounded almost… disappointed. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Alfred staring at the ceiling, still spread eagle across the bed.

“Not living up to your expectations?” He asked as he removed the uncomfortable brown cloak from his shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor at his heels. His blue neck tie was barely hanging around his neck so, with a few attempts at the knot, he removed that too and dropped it onto the small table beside him.

For a moment he thought about taking a quick glance into the mirror but the thought was questionable. He’d ran through a castle, used up most of his magic, had many arguments, fallen out of trees and hidden in them too all since the last time he’d seen himself. He was rather worried he’d break a mirror if he were to step in front of one. However, Arthur sucked it up and moved to step in front of the reflective glass. Things were far worse than he imagined.

“It’s comfy…”

“But?”

“But it’s not home.”

Arthur looked past himself in the mirror to see Alfred. He’d moved so that he was now perched on the end of the bed and staring at his hands with a lost look in his eye – Arthur felt how he looked. Hearts was beautiful but it wasn’t home. It wasn’t Spades.

As if sensing he was being watched, Alfred’s eyes lifted and they met with Arthur’s in the mirror at the same time he yanked off his cloak and let it fall onto the bed behind him. Their eyes locked and Arthur thought that perhaps this was a moment where he could talk, opening his mouth to say something but before he could even get a word out Alfred stood. Without looking back at him, he crossed the room to the bathroom and shut the door before Arthur could even remember what his sentence was going to be.

The Spade Queen blinked at the door that was quiet literally slammed in his face, eyebrows drawing together in a dark scowl and his hands curling into fists. He tried not to let his anger get the better of him, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it whilst shaking out his hands when he really wanted to do nothing more than punch at the bathroom door and scream until his lungs gave out.

However, it was too late. Arthur’s frown only deepened when the potent smell of burning stung at his nose. Immediately he looked up into the mirror, scowling at his reflection before his eyes spotted the small trail of dark grey smoke fluttering behind him. Turning, he saw that the brown cloak he’d been wearing not moments ago was now smoking, tiny amber flames beginning to engulf the fabric. His first reaction was the squawk at it, slapping his hands over his mouth at the ungodly sound he made before jumping at the cloak and stamping on it, using his boots to stomp out the flames.

The fire was gone before it had even started yet Arthur’s heart was far faster than it should have been and he had to wave his arms about to get rid of the smoky smell, trying his best to usher it out the balcony doors close by. Staring at the charred centre of the once perfectly fine cloak, Arthur was reminded why he needed to keep his emotions in check. His magic was powerful and without proper concentration and care it could easily become dangerous. Many times he’d set things alight in the Spade castle over petty arguments where he hadn’t controlled his temper.

Of all things, surely Alfred should have known that teetering around him like this was dangerous for them both.

Instead of facing him like an adult, Alfred was avoiding him so that they couldn’t talk about what had happened in the woods. Since that moment they hadn’t had a moment alone. And now that they were Alfred was doing his best to shut him out and avoid him. Arthur had a hard time apologising in the first place, why did Alfred have to go and make things several times harder.

Running his hands though his hair, Arthur winced when his fingers got stuck, unable to help the mild disgust that crossed his face at how awful his hair felt beneath his fingertips. Now wonder King Ludwig had sent them straight off to the guest chambers to get some rest – more like go get a wash. Arthur was beginning to lose track of the days. Some moments it felt like only hours since he had been fighting Elizaveta to make his way to Alfred whereas others it felt like it had been months since he’d last seen the comforts of his own quarters.

How long had it been since he’d last seen his brothers?

For the first time in a very long time, Arthur felt like he was beginning to miss them. Their lingering presence was not something he had come to notice until now – now that Ivan had snatched them away from him. He missed the way Alistair would come to him each morning with a diligent report, staying just a tad longer than necessary to ask the annoying brotherly questions, he missed Connor and his cracking one liners and he missed Dylan’s cheerful smile even on the darkest of days. He missed his brothers, he missed Yao and he missed Matthew.

Alfred was right. As grateful as he was for Ludwig’s hospitality and the dangerous risks that he was taking in housing them here – this wasn’t home. Nothing would ever feel right until he was settled in his own bed with Alfred at his side and Ivan was nothing more than a distant memory.

Arthur couldn’t deny that he almost screamed when there was a knock on the door, jumping off the bed he didn’t even realise he’d sat down on. For a moment he simply stared at the wood as if it were foreign to him before swallowing and turning back toward the mirror. There was nothing more he could do to make things better. Running his hands through it again would only make it look more like a birds nest, the dirt smeared across his cheeks might as well have been permanent and now that he was focusing properly he noticed he had a small cut just beneath his hairline – most likely from falling out that blasted tree.

Sighing heavily, he brushed down his clothing and called for whoever it was to enter.

Upon hearing his voiced approval, the guards outside opened the doors and allowed in a gentleman. He was wearing a deep red tunic with a chestnut waistcoat over the top, a red heart stitched over the left breast pocket. His sleeves were neatly rolled up to his elbows and showed off his beautiful sun kissed skin, a large black bag held in one of his hands.

He quietly thanked the guards as they closed the doors behind him before turning to Arthur. The Queen’s eyes widened in recognition as soon as his eyes were met with jade green eyes and a cheerful smile that almost blinded him – it had been weeks since Arthur had seen a smile that bright.

“Hello! I am the Royal Doctor of Hearts. Ace Lovino sent me to treat your wounds.”

Arthur blinked several times, not trusting that his eyes were telling him the truth. He was tired but surely not tired enough that his eyes would cast tricks upon him. He knew this man. He had known him for many years. He knew those green eyes, he knew that mop of unruly mocha curls and he knew that unmistakable bubbly personality. He’d seen it before several times in a different kingdom – in different colours.

“A-Antonio?” Arthur questioned. The doctor straightened up as he was addressed with another bright smile, giving a single nod as he moved toward the bed. He was seemingly unfazed by Arthur’s worse for wear looks or the fact that he was staring open mouthed at him, struggling for coherent sentences as he walked past him and settled his bag down on the bed.

Almost as if Antonio had been awaiting such a reaction, he simply continued with his work, pushing Alfred’s cloak off the bed and onto the floor so that his bag wouldn’t crush it and patiently waited for Arthur to come around. After several open and closes of the mouth and pointing at the Heart doctor, the Queen finally found some words that he managed to string into a sentence. He just wished that Alfred would stop camping in the bathroom because he really wouldn’t believe his eyes when he walked out and found their old friend Antonio wearing red instead of yellow.

“What are you doing here? Y-You’re the Ace of Diamonds! Not some-some doctor!”

“Yeah…things didn’t really work out with that. Ivan tends to be a big distraction so I'm not surprised you didn’t hear. Now, come here and let me look at your wounds.”

Antonio motioned for him to sit on the bed beside his bag and Arthur did precisely as he was told with no hesitation, too stunned to even ask more questions as he shuffled over to the bed and perched on its end with Antonio in front of him. Without needing to be asked, he removed his jacket and his shirt, placing them on the bed at his side as he showed Antonio his bandages.

“They can’t be healed with magic. Ivan enchanted his and Elizaveta’s blades with magic so that I wouldn’t be able to heal them with my own,” he mumbled, looking down at the dirtied bandages wrapped tightly around his torso as Antonio delved into his bag to pull out new ones along with several other items.

Not only were the bandages starting to soak through with blood but they were growing increasingly filthy from where Arthur had trekked through the woods, fallen out of trees and hidden in hollow ones. He had several new bruises trailing across his ivory skin that he was unaware of previously along with numerous tiny red scratches and small cuts. He looked well beaten and battered and he was certain that Antonio was silently judging him but he was a doctor now. Things like this had to be common place, right?

“Figures, Ivan wouldn’t want you to forget that he too has magic now would he?” Antonio sighed as he set to work carefully unwinding Arthur’s bandages and growing all the more cautious the closer he got to the actual injury. He chose to begin with the wound across Arthur’s abdomen first - curtsy of Elizaveta. It was a neat cut just below his ribs and above his belly button. Antonio commented that thankfully it wasn’t too deep but it had reopened and hence the blood had been pooling back onto the bandages.

The sound of a door opening caused the pair of them to jump, Antonio standing upright and looking over his shoulder just as Alfred wondered out the bathroom completely naked save for the towel hung low on his hips and the towel slung around his shoulders to catch the water droplets dripping from his hair. Arthur struggled to swallow the sudden lump that had formed in his throat as he peered around Antonio, wishing that he could use his magic to make Antonio disappear because Alfred looked beautiful and, as selfish as it was, Arthur wanted that sight all to himself.

Not unlike himself, Alfred’s body was littered in scars, bruises and cuts now made prominent against his clean skin. Arthur’s attention was immediately drawn to the nasty wound on his right arm. Now more than ever it was red and irritated, clearly from where Alfred had tried to clean it. It appeared sore and Arthur worried that perhaps he hadn’t done a good enough job in bandaging it up however it appeared to be healing. The skin, although red, didn’t look infected. It was healing far better than his own wounds anyway. Ivan had got in a clean swipe at Alfred’s fighting arm but it didn’t appear to be putting Alfred off, not matter how bad it looked.

Arthur’s eyes were then drawn back to Alfred’s toned chest where he noticed the bruising. He almost missed it, mistaking it for the King’s Insignia, but the more he looked the more he noticed; the faint blue bruising that was appearing under the skin around his ribs underneath the large King’s mark that danced and twirled across the left side of Alfred’s chest. It was a beautiful mark and many times Arthur’s fingers had traced the lines across his skin – he knew what was there and what wasn’t.

He knew that gash straight across his mark was not meant to be there but it appeared to be healing well - he cursed Ivan for his aim – and he knew that blue blotching should also, most definitely, not be there.

“Alfred…” Arthur went to stand but Antonio was already giving him a look that dared him to even attempt such a move with no bandages on his rather open wound.

Instead, the doctor gave the King a charming smile and a bow of his head before he politely pulled up a chair, placing it not far from the bed so he would be able to observe him tending to Arthur’s wounds and speak, should he wish too, at the same time. Arthur wasn’t exactly overjoyed with the new arrangement of having an audience but he knew Antonio wasn’t aware that he and Alfred weren’t exactly on the best of speaking terms.

Alfred seemed hesitant and probably just as stunned as Arthur was about Antonio’s appearance in their chambers, blue eyes radiant from his bath as he looked over Arthur and ran a hand through his damp hair – Arthur again had to remind himself that breathing was a necessity – before he came to sit with them. For a moment, he sat silently, adjusting his towel so he was decent and sitting in thought with his eyes trained on Antonio as if trying to figure out how he had come to be in front of him. Arthur was far more distracted with the water droplets trailing down his chiselled chest.

“So, Antonio, you’re in Hearts now?” Alfred asked, eyes dropping down to Antonio as he knelt before Arthur, grabbing a wet cloth from his side and gently beginning to clean Arthur’s wound. The Queen hadn’t even realised the guards had entered and brought in a bowl of warm water whilst he had been ogling his husband in a dream like state. Arthur tried to shake the thoughts from his head. Now was not the time to be distracted by Alfred’s frustratingly beautiful features – especially when he couldn’t have them.

“What happened to you?” Arthur spoke up, wincing as he was prodded with the cloth. Antonio apologised as his eyes remained focused on the wound in front of him, carefully going around the wound and cleaning it of dirt and dried blood until he could get a clearer picture of what he was working with.

“I…I was banished.”

“What?!”

“Banished? Frog Face banished you?”

“He didn’t have much of a choice in all honesty. It was that or execution. I’m glad he chose banishment in the end,” Antonio muttered as he put the cloth back into the bowl to clean it, not nearly as phased by how red the water was in comparison to Alfred who stared at in mild disgust, eyes flickering back to Arthur’s wound in concern. Arthur silently tried to tell him that he perfectly fine but Alfred was neither convinced nor believed him and so he gave up.

Sitting back in his chair, Alfred pressed his hand to his forehead and stared open mouthed at Antonio. Arthur could only mirror his open-mouthed expression of shock at the news that such strong consequences had been put against the man sat before him. Yet, when Antonio turned back to the two Spade royals after prepping his equipment, he seemed startled by their response.

“Execution,” Alfred whispered as if he hadn’t heard the word properly. Arthur himself was questioning it too. He knew both Francis and he knew Antonio. Francis was a fair King and a good friend of Antonio’s, he would never wish execution or banishment upon a friend without due cause where his options were null. Antonio, on the other hand, was not a man who could even come to harm a fly never mind do something so criminal that execution would be put as the charges. It all seemed surreal and Arthur had missed it all.

“What _exactly_ did you do Antonio?” Arthur put the question to Antonio but it hung in the air for a moment before Antonio turned to him with a solemn look in his eye.

“I betrayed the crown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter was a nightmare to write. I thought about deleting pretty much all the second half of this chapter and the next one because I had a moment where I thought perhaps Antonio being here wasn’t all that necessary. Then I realised that Antonio is rather quite important. He’s living proof to Alfred and Arthur that life has continued on outside their own little bubble. It’s a startling reality check for them both.
> 
> You’ll find out Antonio’s backstory in the next chapter! 
> 
> Mythomagic101 asked how I came up with Capitols for the Kingdoms. You were precisely right in that I chose Albion as it was the old name for Great Briton. For the other three I can’t really remember. I’ve had them written down for a long time. I think I just googled mythical sounding cities in their respective languages (i.e., French for Diamonds, Russian for Club and German for Hearts) and then mushed a couple together until I was happy with them. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

“You betrayed the crown? How on earth did you betray th-ow!” Arthur cried out, his sentence disappearing into pain as Antonio’s fingers prodded at his open wounds with some ‘special’ ointment. It stung the moment the cream made contract with his sensitive skin and Arthur immediately slapped away the offending hands, face scrunching up in pain and hands hovering around his injury in a pathetic attempt to protect it from Antonio. When the doctor made another move to place more ointment onto his wound, Arthur gave him a stern warning stare.

“Come at me with that one more time and I swear I will stick it in your bloody eye.”

“As your doctor I have to advise against that. This ointment also has to go on your shoulder before you are allowed to bathe; although you might not enjoy your bath too much either.”

“Why would I not enjoy a bath? Do you know how delightful a bath sounds about now?”

“Well, I would like to be present during your bath so I can be sure your wounds don’t worsen whilst you bathe.”

Arthur stilled for all but a second.

“If you think for one second that you are sitting in that fucking bathroom with me whist I take a bath you have another thing coming mate!” Arthur hissed in a flurry of fury, slapping the small tube of ointment straight out of Antonio’s hand where it flew across the room. All three watched as it landed and slid across the floor to a stop, Antonio pouting at his trusty equipment now halfway across the room before rounding on Arthur with an irritated glare.

“I am a doctor! Your Majesty, it is highly recommended he do as I advise.”

“The key word there is recommendation! I am certainly not taking orders from someone like you!”

“I wasn’t talking to you!”

Antonio’s eyes almost glistened as his lips quirked upwards into a smirk. Arthur couldn’t believe a banished Ace had the cheek to speak to him in such a manner and opened his mouth to retaliate – ready to lay down the law that he was of higher rank no matter what kingdom they were in – before he realised that Antonio had referred to Alfred. The Spade King merely sat back in his chair comfortably with his arms crossed over his chest. He was watching the bickering pair silently, clearly unimpressed with their behaviour and waiting quietly like a father ready to scold his disobedient children. The look didn’t suit Alfred’s youthful face.

Arthur had to admit that this was not his usual way of handing a situation but this was Antonio and Antonio was one of those people that somehow managed to turn him back into a whiny toddler. It was infuriating. Alfred had made several comments on multiple visits to the Diamond Kingdom when Antonio had been their Ace that their conversations, although amusing, were highly unprofessional. Arthur had been mortified the first time he heard that but his time of caring was long ago. Now all he cared about was winning.

He was extremely tired, frustrated, confused about many things regarding Alfred, his wounds were hurting more than ever and Antonio was just stood there looking highly smug whilst his own husband was all but ready to scold him when clearly Antonio was in the wrong. He had been the one to viciously attack Arthur with that terrible ointment.

“Alfred, clearly he-”

“He’s a doctor now Arthur. He’s right.”

“You’re going to let a strange man sit and watch your own husband whilst he’s in the bath?” Arthur deadpanned. Alfred heaved a heavy sigh, looking down his nose toward Arthur in disappointment that Arthur would act so childishly. Arthur had to catch himself before he made a comment about how much Alfred had acted like one himself earlier – slamming a door in his face had been the epitome of childish. Thankfully, Arthur caught the thought before it formed into words on his tongue although he was fairly certain that Alfred had caught on simply from the look in his eye.

He stared at Alfred for a few moments longer before realising that arguing his case would get him nowhere and would just be yet another dispute between them. Alfred’s mind was clearly made up on the matter and although Alfred had his best interests at mind it hurt Arthur a little that he didn’t take his own wishes into consideration. Arthur was almost certain that he himself would not appreciate having someone sit in on his bath. Alfred really was okay with letting Antonio sit in with him even if Arthur wasn’t and if that’s what Alfred wanted then so be it. Arthur couldn’t argue. He was too tired to argue. Alfred was his King and Antonio was the doctor. He was overruled.

“Antonio?” The doctor looked up from where he was knelt on the floor at Arthur’s knee, green eyes meeting with the Spade Queen who deflated instantly under his gaze. Arthur really was having the worst day ever. “I… apologise. That was highly out of order and I have no authority questioning you. Please forgive me.”

Antonio looked startled by the formal apology and certainly not expecting one from Arthur of all people. He looked to Alfred for reassurance almost as if to check the apology was real (he got a tiny nod of approval) before he gave a small nod and smile of his own. Arthur felt sick.

“Of course,” He said, standing to retrieve the ointment from the centre of the room and quickly returning to Arthur’s side. He worked in relative silence after that, gently applying more ointment to the area despite Arthur’s hissing and faces of pain. Antonio explained that it merely cleaned the wound more thoroughly in places where he couldn’t reach and would hopefully protect it more whilst he was in the bath.

Before Arthur knew it the wound on his front was deemed done and he was being asked to turn so that Antonio could asses his shoulder. Luckily for him, that meant that he no longer had to face Alfred. Those baby blues were instead forced onto his back where Arthur could feel them watching as the bandages were unwound, the silence in the room growing unbearably uncomfortable. Still curious about just how the Ace of Diamonds had come to reside as the Royal Doctor of Hearts, Arthur deemed the silence too much and broke it.

“You don’t strike me as the type to betray the crown. What did you do? Rob Francis of his favourite jewels?” Arthur tried not to laugh or smirk at the mental image that suddenly flooded into his brain of King Francis freaking out about his favourite gems suddenly going missing, realising rather quickly that Antonio had paused in undoing his bandages. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw the doctor staring at his bared skin with a distant look in his eye as if he weren’t really seeing it, instead remembering something and only snapping back into reality when he saw Arthur’s face.

“Ah… I, um, ha…” Antonio took in a deep breath, eyebrows furrowing when he pulled away the last of Arthur’s bloodied bandages. Obviously, Arthur couldn’t see the injury, judging only Antonio’s reaction out the corner of his eye and clearly the Heart doctor didn’t like what he saw as he called for one of the guards.

A small surge of panic pulsed through Arthur as he turned his head the other way to gage Alfred’s reaction, the King wrinkling his nose before looking over his shoulder also at the guards who entered the room. Arthur was relieved when Antonio asked only for another bowl of clean water. There was another pause as the guards swapped the water bowls, removing the previous bowl of red water that had sat at Arthur’s feet and replacing it with clean water and a new cloth.

“Antonio?” Alfred urged Antonio to answer Arthur’s question, or at the very least return to the topic of why he was banished. He seemed jumpy as his gaze turned from staring at the doors the guards had just closed back to Alfred sat down in front of him.

Standing in front of them both, Antonio sighed before shyly pulling a chain with a golden ring hung on it from around his neck. The necklace had been hidden beneath his shirt and the minute he pulled it out, the doctor began to toy with it affectionately, even bringing it to his lips as he showed it to them. The way Antonio looked at the ring was unlike anything Arthur had ever seen from the man. He recognised it instantly.

“You fell in love?” Arthur asked quietly. He didn’t know why his voice was so quiet or why looking over at Alfred seemed like such an impossible task as he watched Antonio smile. He rubbed his thumb over the ring and brought it up to his lips, lightly kissing the gold before tucking the chain away beneath his shirt once more where it was hidden again. Looking between the two, he gently held Arthur’s arms to turn him once more so that he could continue working on healing his shoulder like he should be.

Arthur followed the guidance, turning, and hated the feeling of warm water dripping down his spine when Antonio began to clean his wound but tried his best not to focus on it. Instead, he listened intently to Antonio’s story - the story of a friend’s life that had changed whilst he had been locked away in his own castle too busy with the looming threat of Ivan.

“I fell in love. Well, I’ve been in love for a long while but we are from different kingdoms. He was a Heart and I a Diamond. I couldn’t let that stop us but we were found out and reported. Francis had me imprisoned immediately.”

Arthur could feel the way Antonio paused in cleaning his wound for a brief moment before continuing.

“It was horrible not knowing how my love was doing over here. I didn’t know if he, too, was locked up or if he had fled. I was sentenced to death for betraying my kingdom and fraternising with the enemy. Francis couldn’t take the risk that information had been shared. He has to set examples, who can blame him.”

“Enemy? Are Heart’s and Diamond’s not on good terms?” Alfred frowned in confusion and Arthur thought he could sense a small bit of panic in his voice. Had they really missed so much that international relationships between two kingdoms had changed right under their noses. Spades was supposedly the most powerful of the Four Kingdoms and yet here they were the King and the Queen, questioning almost everything.

Yet, despite Alfred’s valid points, Arthur found himself staring down at his left hand. Seeing the ring around Antonio’s neck reminded him of his own wedding band. It reminded him of the promise he had made to Alfred. How he wished it were still around his finger now. He knew that, like he and Alfred had agreed, it was back at the palace. They had come to the agreement that they would both remove their wedding bands until everything involving Ivan was considered over. Arthur couldn’t bear the thought of losing it or damaging it. Even without it on he already felt like maybe he _had_ damaged it. He missed having it around his finger – he missed that connection with Alfred.

In fact, he missed everything about Alfred.

All that seemed to connect them now was a single word and even that was fragile. Did Alfred want to be his husband anymore? Arthur didn’t know.

A small jolt of pain brought Arthur back to his senses. Good job too because the Queen was moments from breaking down into tears had that thought process continued. Instead, he thought elsewhere, not really listening to Antonio explaining to Alfred how, yes, Diamond and Hearts were still on good terms. Frowning, he suddenly realised that the ring around Antonio’s neck was not unfamiliar. He had seen it before in brief passing only hours ago.

“Lovino…” He mused.

“Hm?”

“Lovino. You fell in love with Lovino. That’s why Francis had to either execute you or banish you. He is the Ace of Hearts. You could have been feeding each other private information.”

Once again, the feeling of Alfred’s eyes on his back nagged in his stomach but he chose to ignore it. Clearly Alfred had not seen the matching rings they both wore around their neck. Twisting his head, he caught Antonio’s eye as he paused in cleaning his wound. He gave him a weak smile and nod.

“Lovino travelled to Diamond Castle the day of my execution. I don’t know how he did it but he got my sentence changed. Instead of death, Francis banished me from the Diamond Kingdom. He forced Lovino to stand at his side as I was forced out the kingdom so that he would not follow and then, only then, was Lovino allowed to return to Hearts.”

“How _did_ you find each other?” Alfred’s question followed eagerly, ever the youngster wanting to find out how the story ended even though it was staring him in the face. Arthur had a feeling the ending was a good one considering the rings and the fact that Antonio was not scrounging around on the outskirts of the Four Kingdoms. Instead he had a home as the royal Heart doctor.

Arthur winced when Antonio finished cleaning his shoulder and applied ointment to it without a word of warning, apologising for being so careless only afterwards. The Spade Queen gritted his teeth and nodded despite the stinging.

Arthur was far more interested in Antonio’s story.

It made him realise that the world still existed outside his feud with Ivan. If this was how he felt then he had no telling how Alfred felt. This had been a rivalry between the two of them far longer than it had with Arthur. He had only become involved upon becoming Queen and marrying Alfred. However, listening to Antonio made Arthur want to know just how much had he missed in his quest to protect Alfred and his kingdom? How much had his friends and other royals been through whilst his own thoughts had been buried deep within the sand? Did Ivan’s threats affect them just as much?

He had so many unanswered questions.

“There was an abandoned outhouse on the outskirts of Hearts where we would always meet. He knew I would flee there. He came to me instantly and told me that he would fix everything. I was a mess. Everything I had ever known had been taken from me until he brought me here. If there is one thing you need to learn about Hearts Your Majesties it is that Heart’s is the kingdom of second chances. Without it, I don’t know where I would be. I owe Lovino everything…”

Antonio trailed off, excusing himself when a guard called for him from the doorway. Arthur thought the timing absolutely impeccable as the doors closed and left him and his husband in silence. Turning back around, he fixed his eyes on his ring finger, picturing his wedding band and trying to imagine all the times when he had looked at it in happiness as Antonio’s words lingered in his ears. He remembered Alfred’s quivering voice and shaking hands as he slipped it onto his own shaking fingers clear as day.

“How do your wounds feel?” Alfred’s spoke up, Arthur jostling in his seat at the sudden voice and letting his eyes lift slowly to his King. He was much closer than Arthur was expecting, sat forward in his chair with his hands clasped together, and he noticed instantly the way those blue eyes were watching the way he was rubbing at his ring finger.

Arthur had the urge to lie. To tell him that he was fine, that his wounds were fine, but he knew how that played out last time and couldn’t bring himself to say those words again. For the next couple of weeks those words he had said so carelessly would haunt him.

“Not great but Antonio knows what he is doing I suppose,” he answered quietly instead. Dropping his gaze, he focused on the mark on Alfred’s chest, following the beautiful swirls and patterns of blue dancing across his skin. He tried his best not to focus on the bruising or the cut – he tried not to worry but Arthur found that it was an impossible feat. It was automatic. He had to worry. As it seemed Alfred did as well. Despite their arguments, large or small, Arthur was content in knowing that at least Alfred still cared about his health.

“Arthur, we need to talk.”

“Are you sure? You seem to be doing a diligent job in avoiding me so far.”

Arthur caught the way Alfred opened his mouth but paused before continuing again.

“I want to be able to talk on our own terms and in our own privacy. I just… I haven’t found the right time yet.”

Arthur frowned, looking out across the room in front of him just so he wouldn’t have to see Alfred’s face because he knew that the man would have that lost puppy look on his face. Arthur was a sucker for that face.

“You demand an explanation, quite literally scream it in my face, and then when I try to give it to you each time I’m met with a slamming door. Forgive me when I say I'm a little confused with the signals you’re giving me.”

Alfred fell silent for a moment, Arthur turning to look at him as his eyes dropped to the floor at his feet. He looked uncomfortable, as if he were battling with his inner thoughts before he let out another heavy sigh. Arthur couldn’t deny that as beautiful as his King had looked in that moment when he stepped out the bath now that he was sat here, close and with his guards down, he looked just as tired as Arthur felt, if not more so, and void of all energy. Alfred looked done with the world around him. He appeared ready to give up, blue eyes constantly close to filling with tears and Arthur didn’t need to hear to low grumble of his stomach to know that he was starving. They were running on barely anything and when energy drew thin emotions grew high.

“I know and that’s my fault. Maybe once we have dinner we can-”

The doors to the guest chambers opened and Arthur looked past Alfred to see Antonio re-enter the room with Lovino at his side and although the doctor was smiling cheerfully with the Ace, Arthur could have happily killed them both in that mere moment. He wanted nothing more than to get up and shove them both back out that door because he was _sick_ of interruptions. Every time he got marginally close to a civil conversation with his husband someone just had to up on in and ruin it. Arthur didn’t have the patience for it anyone.

“Look who I found!” Antonio cheered as he strode back into the room, grinning until he saw the death glare plastered across Arthur’s face and the glum look on Alfred’s. “Oh. I interrupted something didn’t I?”

“Yes! So, if you could politely twirl around and head back out that would be _fantastic_.”

“No, Arthur, its fine. We can talk later.”

Arthur cringed at the use of his own words against him yet again, staring openly at Alfred with a slack jaw for giving away their own moment together so easily. That was the only opportunity where they had been given the choice and Alfred had thrown it away like it meant nothing, hardly even considering it. He had spoken about finding the right time not seconds ago and now he was throwing away precious moments where they were finally talking?

Antonio hesitated between them, glancing back at Lovino who was hovering beside the door. The Ace whispered something to one of the guards before they closed the doors behind the two, doing his best not to intervene too much by entertaining himself with one of the candleholders on the wall beside the doors. Arthur considered it all too little too late.

“If you wish for me to leave I will. It’s just that I would like to tend to King Alfred’s wounds before I proceed with your own bath. If you would like to speak in private, however, I will gladly wait.”

Antonio looked at Arthur with an understanding look, one he hadn’t quite expected, and although he appreciated the offer he could see that Alfred was growing increasingly uncomfortable. He could only presume that sitting in just a flimsy towel with two Heart members in the room with them was not the safest feeling.

“It’s alright. Alfred’s wounds are more important and I would like them seen to immediately,” Arthur nodded to Alfred’s arm and his chest, the younger King rolling his eyes and Antonio came closer and inspected the pre-mentioned wounds. He told Arthur that whilst Alfred changed into something more suitable he would finish up the Queen’s wounds, Alfred rushing off into the bathroom with a flush face when he realised that Lovino was still lingering in the doorway and nearly saw his towel slip. Lovino was busy trying to avert his eyes anywhere but the Spade King until he disappeared.

“Those sure do look nasty,” Lovino mused as he approached the bed now he was certain he was fine to do so, eyes glossing over Arthur’s visible injuries. Arthur watched the way those eyes drifted over to the chair Alfred had previously sat in beside him as if he contemplated sitting in it for half a second before thinking better of it, instead turning back to Arthur and ever so slightly tilting his head toward him. “King Ludwig has ordered that a small feast be put into place for you both this evening. I came to tell you that the perpetrations are almost complete.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped upon hearing those words, realising quickly that he had yet to bathe. He refused to return back to the Heart throne room and greet his fellow royals with a bird’s nest upon his head and mud smeared across his face. Luckily for him, Antonio, who was leant over him and fixing up his shoulder with more of that dreaded ointment, explained to him that there was more than enough time for him to tend to Alfred’s wounds and provide Arthur with his bath.

Still, Arthur wasn’t certain about this bath under Antonio’s supervision, however, the thought of finally scrubbing the grime off his skin and being able to run his fingers through his hair without them getting caught in painful knots or finding small splinters of wood and leaves he’d collected over the past five days since he’d fled his castle was enough for him to agree. He just wasn’t in the mood to argue anymore, even with Antonio. He’d run down almost all of his energy, he was hungry and he wanted nothing more than to simply sit down and have the opportunity to speak with Alfred.

If having a bath under Antonio’s watchful eye got him there faster then that’s what he would do, no matter his own personal embarrassment.

Lovino left rather swiftly after delivering his message. He hung around only for a light conversation with Antonio which Arthur hardly paid attention to before watching as Lovino took the bowl of bloodied water with him out the room albeit with a disgusted face. Antonio did say that it was mostly died blood and Arthur’s wounds were, although not in the best condition, something he could work with. It seemed to ease Lovino’s conscience as he left.

Once Alfred returned from the bathroom fully clothed save for a shirt, Antonio called for the help of a passing serving girl to help him run a bath whilst he tended to Alfred’s arm. She was more than happy to help as the guards practically grabbed her and asked her to enter the room, bowing to the Spade royals and smiling as she scurried into the bathroom to tend to Arthur’s bath.

As much as Alfred had complained about Arthur’s movements during Antonio’s attention, the young King was much shiftier under the doctor’s touches. Arthur stayed close by, swapping places by letting Alfred onto the bed and instead sitting on his chair so he could sit as silent support not matter how clear Alfred made it that he didn’t want Arthur to sit and watch. Alfred had watched him and so Arthur would be dammed if he wasn’t going to sit and watch Antonio bandaged him up like a hawk.

He couldn’t help but grimace as Antonio poked and prodded around his husbands wound, Alfred choosing to watch Arthur’s face instead of his own arm. He tried not to focus on that, listening intently to Antonio’s voice as he cleaned a little deeper in the wound than the bath had and told them both that it was a fairly clean cut that seemed to be healing well on its own. Some small specks of dirt had managed to work their way into the open wound but didn’t appear to be causing infection, Antonio didn’t seem to be concerned as he removed the dirt and pressed a different sort of cream onto his wound.

Alfred cried out at that. Shying his arm away from Antonio and cursing at him, Arthur had the temporary thought of calling him a hypocrite. The creams sucked and now at least Alfred knew his suffering. Despite getting a small sense of satisfaction knowing that he hadn’t just been a baby and Alfred too had despised the feeling of the ointment on his skin, Arthur still didn’t want to leave when the serving girl called that his bath was ready.

It was strange. That seeing the smallest hint of pain cross Alfred’s face could make him long to be beside him until it was over. He didn’t even realise he was leant forward in his chair toward the bed, his hand pressed against his own knee to stop it reaching out onto Alfred’s because he didn’t know how Alfred would react to the contact. He didn’t know how Alfred would react to _him_.

Sensing the hesitation, Antonio assured him that Alfred would be fine, despite the daggers said Alfred was glaring at him, and the cream he had applied was there to merely cleanse the wound further and stop infection should the dirt have got deeper than Antonio thought – therefore it hurt and stung a little.

Arthur understood, nodding slowly and looking to Alfred. Baby blue eyes were staring at his arm before they turned to meet with green eyes. He looked mildly like he was in pain but he managed a fleeting smile. It was short lived, the corners of his mouth barely lifting upwards, but Arthur had seen it and he swallowed with a nod as he stood and moved his hand to pat Alfred’s knee on his way up.

With slight reluctance he headed into the large bathroom where the serving girl smiled at him as she bowed before leaving him to undress, closing the door behind her. He knew that Antonio would join him the minute he was finished with Alfred and so he took a deep breath of the hot air and tried to enjoy the peace of his own company. He stripped himself of his clothing, peeling the fabric from his skin, and dropped it into the corner of the room before walking to the large bathtub and lowering himself into it. He was very weary of his wounds no longer protected by thick layers of bandages but at the same time he couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to just submerge himself beneath the surface of the water and bubbles.

The thought of sinking into the frothy white cloud of bubbles surrounding him to just lay there until all the dirt and grim melted away from him and he was once again feeling like his normal self was a tempting one however he knew that wouldn’t happen from just one bath. It was highly unlikely a bath could fix his troubles but cleaning himself up was a start in the right direction.

So, carefully he sat down in the large tub situated in the centre of the room and that could easily fit several people in it. Using his arm, his cleared away the bubbles so they wouldn’t sting at the wound on his stomach, hissing when he accidentally leant back into some bubbles behind him and they stung at his shoulder. Maybe he really had underestimated how hard this whole bath malarkey would be without a little help.

As if on cue there was a knock on the door and Antonio entered quickly, closing the door behind him to keep as much heat in the room as possible. He didn’t look directly at Arthur immediately on the off chance that Arthur wasn’t fully submerged.

“Your Majesty?”

“Antonio.”

“How are your wounds feeling?”

Arthur knew that as a doctor it was his place to ask such questions but, honestly, Arthur was growing tired of being asked about his injuries. He wanted to be asked about something different. Perhaps something along the lines of: ‘Hey, Arthur, are you hungry? Are you tired? Are you homesick? Do you miss the only person you’ve ever truly loved because he won’t talk to you and you’re confused as to how he truly feels about everything as of this moment?’ Anything that wasn’t about his wounds would suffice.

“They’re alright for the time being. Bubbles aren’t particularly kind I’ll give you that but it’s nice to be in a bath.” Arthur looked over to Antonio just as the doctor jumped up on the long marble counter where the sinks were placed just behind him. He had never felt more exposed with Antonio seated above him and unable to pull the surrounding bubbles around him for more cover in fear that they would aggravate his wounds; simply having the water slosh against them was odd enough. “I can’t believe I'm allowing you to do this…”

“Me neither. When Lovino offered the position of Heart Royal Doctor I don’t think sitting in a bathroom with the Queen of Spades was included in the job description.”

Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leant back against the tub before letting them close. He tried to pretend that Antonio wasn’t there, watching him, and that he was at home in the familiarity of Spade Castle. It was a day as regular as any as he bathed in his solitude. Alfred was outside in their wide-open chambers, humming a soft melody as he practiced the waltz for an upcoming ball. Everyone would be there. Royals from all Four Kingdoms would show and, as host, they would have to dance first. Alfred would invite him to dance in the centre of their beautiful ballroom, extending a pristine gloved hand in his direction along with a pearly white smile. How romantic it would be even if Alfred stepped on his feet every two seconds.

“I’m going to wash your hair.”

Dream _crushed_.

The world that Arthur had created so easily within a few moments of silence crumbled around him as Antonio leapt from the counter top. The shattering reality of where he truly was made Arthur miss his fake world, angrily pocking at the bubbles floating toward him as Antonio came up behind him. Immediately green eyes snapped back up, head twisting and turning to watch the doctor’s every move.

“You bloody well aren’t!” Arthur warned, scowling as Antonio paused to pick up a few items before turning back to the bathtub armed with shampoo and a funnel to wash Arthur’s hair. The Spade Queen stared at it in absolute horror.

“Someone needs to watch your shoulder so that suds don’t get in it whilst you wash. Unless you suddenly have eyes in the back of your head that you aren’t telling me about you don’t have a choice,” Antonio huffed as he settled the items on the counter, turning to lean back against the counter. At this point Arthur was twisted awkwardly in the bath just to see him, not trusting in taking his eyes off him with the funnel still close by. “Now, unless you want me to go get King Alfred – who is trying his best to rest mind you – I suggest you sit back, relax and listen to doctors’ orders for once in your royal life.” Antonio crossed his arms over his chest, jade green eyes flickering over to the door almost threateningly to prove that he would, indeed, go wake Alfred if he so needed to.

Upon hearing that Alfred was finally getting some rest had Arthur feeling guilty immediately, realising that his voice had been rather loud, and so the Queen sank further into the bath and pressed his lips into a thin line.

Arthur had always had a rocky relationship with Antonio; some days they chose to be friends and others not. They had petty arguing down to an art. Seeing Arthur back down had the Heart doctor grinning happily (and a little victoriously because he hardly ever won these battles) as he picked up the funnel from the counter and scooped some water from the bath beside Arthur’s arm.

“Thank you,” He said sweetly, before dunking the water on Arthur’s head.

**XxXxXx**

For days he had searched; for days he had used up all his efforts and resources scouring the city and its surrounding villages; for days he had torn apart the kingdom searching for two individuals and still nothing. He had used all his methods, sent out all his men and threatened every Spadinian that resided within the Spade Kingdom that should they not give up their Royals their city would burn. Still nothing.

Ivan wanted nothing more than to destroy the throne he had strived so hard to get yet could not sit upon. It stood before him, gloating, taunting. Each time his eyes came to stare at it he could picture that annoying little brat sitting on it with the crown jewels nestled within his hair, sword shimmering at his side and smug grin gracing his lips.

It made his blood boil.

_‘Is the poor little Club King getting mad?’_

Alfred was there, laughing at him, judging him. He had escaped and was still elusive after all his detailed searches and raids. He had escaped from the very tips of his fingers and Ivan had been unable to stop him, watching as his fellow King disappeared in a swirl of blue just before the sharp of his blade sliced at him. He should have won there and then. But now, Alfred was the one winning. The Young King was laughing in his face, his eyes sparkling as he watched Ivan each moment of every day.

With each passing moment Alfred became a brighter picture of his imagination. To start with he had been only a faded blur, scattered across the throne room but as the days started to blur into one he became a stronger image in the forefront of his vision; a constant. No matter where Ivan looked within the room, Alfred was there ready and waiting to taunt him.

Sometimes he sat upon the throne with glistening jewels adjourning his head, twirling a silver staff with a sapphire spade on the end in his hand like the cocky little King that he was – almost as if he was bored. Sometimes he was pacing the throne room like a parallel to Ivan himself, saying nothing and deep in thought but always keeping one bright blue eye on the Club King and other times he skipped and danced around like a taunting child, desperately toying with Ivan and waiting for his sanity to snap like a measly twig.

The only way Ivan was certain that this was not the real Alfred was the way in which his outline faded out into the surrounding area.

“Your Majesty?” Ivan looked over to the doorway the minute he heard another voice, finding his Queen lingering. Her bottle green eyes were clearly concerned but he paid her no mind, giving her a brief glance before returning his eyes back to the throne where Alfred had been seated. It was empty. Alfred was nowhere to be seen. Of course he wasn’t. Sighing and rubbing his temple, the King returned his gaze back to Elizaveta to give her the attention she required.

“Yes?”

“We’ve searched everywhere.” She sounded exhausted. “If Alfred really is still in Spades he’s doing an incredible job at staying hidden. Someone must be harbouring him.”

“You searched their chambers.”

“Every inch.”

“Look again. There must be something that we’re missing. There has to be something in this godforsaken castle that leads to where they are hiding. Search Alfred’s office. Search Arthur’s office. Search the library. I don’t care. I want this castle torn apart brick by brick until we have something on them,” Ivan hissed, beginning to pace to walk off his frustration so he wouldn’t aim it at Elizaveta. He could see she wanted to argue, it was clear as day with in her eyes and the way her shoulders squared up at his words, however she simply clasped her hands behind her back, gritted her teeth and bowed at the hip toward him.

Ivan appreciated that she said nothing at all. He couldn’t handle an argument from her. He was far too tired. Simply being in the throne room was draining his energy and yet he couldn’t seem to leave. Spades was proving to be a lot harder to take down than he had pictured. He had never imagined that the actual castle would fight back. He was losing his mind all over a wooden throne he couldn’t even sit on.

Elizaveta left quickly, striding out the room as fast as she could upon hearing her orders. Ivan could tell she was tired and run down but he could not spare her free time – she was a valuable resource at his disposal, he had to keep her close. The minute the large doors closed behind her, Alfred reappeared in the place where they had once been held open by the guards. With a pout on his face, he sauntered further into the throne room.

_‘Well, that isn’t very nice. How would you like it if I tore your castle apart?’_

His voice seemed so real as it echoed through the Club King’s ears, humming in his head but Ivan had to remain focused. This was not the Alfred he needed.

“You’re not real. You’re just in my head,” He muttered, rubbing hard at his eyes in an attempt to make Alfred disappeared. For just a moment he wanted his thoughts to himself. These visions were distracting and taking him away from the task at hand – finding the real Alfred and brining him in. Perhaps that’s why they were occurring in the first place. Perhaps Spade Castle really did have a life of its own.

When Ivan removed his hands from his face he had to bite back the scream that bubbled in the back of his throat, stumbling backwards in fright at Alfred who was now directly in front of him. He was so close, right in his face and he was different, so very different. He looked severally ill. His skin was grey, eyes sunken back into his head still alarmingly bright blue behind the frames of his glasses which remained perched on the bridge of his nose. His hair was like spun gold and his skin was pulled taught over the bone beneath, head tilted at an odd angle like an old broken doll. He looked like the Alfred of nightmares.

_‘Not real? Just because I'm in your head doesn’t mean I'm not real.’_

Within the blink of an eye he was gone and the King of Clubs was left alone in a considerably cooler throne room. Ivan groaned, shivering as chills ran across his skin as he looked around just to make sure that Alfred really had gone.

He had.

Ignoring the ice that had formed upon the floor at his feet in the shape of very visible footprints he made a beeline straight for the doors. He didn’t even call for the guards to open them for him, yanking them open himself and startling the guards outside as he fled the room with no specific destination in mind.

Anywhere that wasn’t the Spade throne room was good. He needed to leave for a good few hours – if anything just to escape looking at that damn throne.

As he rushed away from the room, he didn’t look back. Missing the way Alfred reappeared with a victorious smirk upon his lips just as the throne room doors closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ah I’m so glad this chapter is done. It was very hard to write but I did enjoy writing Arthur and Antonio’s relationship. 
> 
> At the end of this chapter we get to see a little of how Ivan is coping in the Spade Castle. He isn’t doing so well bless him. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

The smell of delicious foods normally had Ludwig’s stomach rumbling and his mouth watering but now he found that his appetite had become rather non-existent. The thought of food made him think of Feliciano whom he hadn’t seen since their argument earlier that afternoon. Ludwig had steamed, settled and calmed since then and naturally, he had asked around if anyone had seen their cheerful Jack pass by, however none that he had spoken to had answers for him. That had him worried. Feliciano didn’t just run off without a word to anyone – that just wasn’t him.

He could barely focus on anything with the worry consuming him. People were scurrying about, bobbing backwards and forwards, asking him this and that yet each time he couldn’t really remember the question they had asked. Mostly they revolved around his unexpected guests and he knew that that was where his main focus should lie but he had to know where Feliciano was. He needed to know. The nagging was urgent.

Although he was fairly certain Feliciano would not leave the castle, the guilt of shouting at him and not being able to apologise immediately before the Jack had run off was eating him up. Ludwig hated shouting at the Feliciano. He knew Feliciano hated when he shouted and he tried his best to keep his voice under control for his sake. They had some of the most peaceful discussions in this palace all because of Feliciano.

His aimless wondering brought him closer to the castle kitchens. The servants and chefs here were busy preparing foods for Alfred and Arthur, dashing around him and curiously glancing in his direction as they silently questioned just why their King would be so close to the kitchen quarters so late in the afternoon, especially with the new arrivals to tend to. Ludwig had to wonder himself. He was hardly ever seen in this area of the castle and was a little baffled as to why his legs had brought him here in his deep thought wondering.

He ran a hand over his face in exasperation, about ready to turn back and head for his chambers when he heard humming over the banging of several pots and pans. Familiar humming. It was a tune that he knew – a tune that he heard all the time and repeatedly asked to stop. Relief washed over him like he had been doused in it and he found himself rushing through the doors and into the kitchens where his Jack was dancing around with several chefs, cooking with them and helping in preparing the foods.

He had flour smeared across his face and in his hair but Ludwig didn’t care because this was Feliciano in his element. Feliciano was where he wanted to be and was where Ludwig knew deep down he would be. When Feliciano was upset he loved to cook. He always had before he was a Jack. Why would that ever change?

Ludwig stood in the doorway for a few minutes, staring at his Jack and simply taking in the sight as he drank in his relief. He hadn’t run away from him, he looked fine and he looked happy as he twirled a chef around to scoot past her. She giggled as she span off into another part of the kitchen and Ludwig could faintly hear her singing the same tune as Feliciano was. In fact, most of the kitchen was lowly singing the same song as they worked away. Ludwig had never known the kitchens so happy.

The King jumped when a poor serving girl crashed into his back, sending both herself and the golden plated tray she was carrying to the ground with a thud and incredibly loud crash. Instantly he turned to help her too her feet, wishing he wasn’t built like a wall that knocked almost everyone over as the woman scrambled to get her footing and bowed with a bright red face as she spluttered her apologies.

Ludwig gave her a kind smile and told her not to worry, that he was in the wrong for standing in the doorway to the kitchens and handed her the tray. She was young, clearly startled and looked at him with wide eyes as she shakily took it and scuttled off into the kitchens with the tray clasped tightly in her arms.

“Luddy- I mean- Ludwig?” Ludwig turned back to see Feliciano staring at him with a wooden spoon in hand. The confusion on his face was obvious as he watched the serving girl rush past him before his eyes returned to his King. “What are you doing down here?”

“Never mind what I'm doing down here. What are you doing down here?”

“I’m helping prepare the feast for our guests. Is that a crime?” Feliciano’s eyes narrowed slightly at him, almost with malicious intent, however Ludwig gave him a stern look that warned him not to argue here in front of their cooks. The chefs and waiters watched the two royals but said nothing, continuing with their busy work and getting the food ready. Ludwig could see that it was almost done and it really did smell divine, his appetite returning now that he knew Feliciano was safe and well within the castle walls.

“It is not. How is it coming?” Ludwig asked with a soft smile, walking into the kitchens and over to Feliciano’s side to peer into the pot he was stirring. Feliciano stiffed as if he were worried his King was coming over to scold him once more before brightening tenfold, rocking on his heels and lightly pushing Ludwig’s shoulder back so he could no longer see into the deep pot.

“Don’t lean over it, silly. You’ll burn your nose on the steam!”

The King blinked at his Jack then down at the lightly tanned hand resting on his shoulder, hoping that the steam covered the way in which his cheeks suddenly grew rather hot. Gosh, this was not professional in the slightest. Ludwig needed to leave immediately and get back to his Kingly business like King’s did because he was a King.

“It’s coming along great actually. Here, taste this,” Feliciano smiled brightly, lifting up the spoon he had been stirring the pot with toward Ludwig and holding his hand underneath so that none of its contents would dribble onto Ludwig’s garments. Had the King the time, he would have argued about how unhygienic and unprofessional they were being but Feliciano already had the spoon pressed against his lips before the thought could even form.

“Tastes amazing,” Ludwig mumbled with his mouth full. It really was delightful but he expected nothing less from Feliciano’s cooking. Looking over to the other he blushed upon realised Feliciano was giggling behind his hand, noticing also that some of the other chefs within the kitchens were also chuckling but turned their heads away and pretended not to have seen the King talk with his mouth full. “I-I must be off now, our guests will be down shortly and you look busy. Don’t forget to join us.”

“I won’t and Ludwig?”

“Hm?” He stopped, looking back over his shoulder as he rushed to get out the hot kitchens. He was so close to the doors and he could feel the cool air just moments away. Feliciano’s cheeks were flushed slightly but his lips were curled into a gentle smile, his amber eyes almost seeming to sparkle at him from across the kitchens.

“You have a little something on your chin.”

The Heart King quickly rubbed his hand over his chin and scuttled out the kitchens, thankful to be free of the steam and loud banging and clattering of the pots and pans as he clambered up the stairs to the cooler climates of the stone corridors. Once away from the kitchens and on a quiet hallway he stopped his hurried walking and braced himself against a wall to catch his breath, resting his forehead against the cool stone in an attempt to soothe his suddenly warm skin.

That was… certainly not how he had planned his talk with Feliciano to go. He had prepared for strictly King and Jack business. No funny stuff. He had been making sure that Feliciano was alright and that _they_ were still alright after their disagreement; that was exactly what he had been doing. A king could do that couldn’t he? It was a talk, a friendly talk. He was simply being… polite. Yes.

“Um, King Ludwig?”

Oh, not now. Please, not now.

Ludwig span around like a startled animal, almost falling back into the wall when he saw Queen Kiku stood behind him with a worried expression donned upon his face. It was rather disconcerting considering that Kiku didn’t do emotions all too well.

“Y-Yes?”

“Are you alright?” He asked as perceptive as ever, that worried look wiped clean from his features as if it had never existed although Ludwig could tell something was bothering him. He had known Kiku for many years now and although Kiku was not the most open book or talkative man, Ludwig did his best to spot when something was wrong. Now, was certainly one of those times.

Ludwig tried to brush his own issue off, standing straight and brushing out the imaginary creases in his clothing. He wasn’t ready to admit he was trying to cool his blushing face against a stone wall all because of one conversation with Feliciano. That was not something his Queen needed to be involved with although he had a sneaking suspicion that Kiku was more aware of his feelings for Feliciano than he himself was.

“I’m fine. You needed something?”

“Ah, yes. Shall we walk?” Kiku offered, holding out his hand to the corridor ahead of them. Ludwig nodded as he noted down the slightly odd behaviour but allowed Kiku to lead the way, figuring that they Queen would already have a location in mind for them to head toward.

Their walk was surprisingly slow and silent. He had expected Kiku to speak as they walked but it seemed that was not to be the case. Most of the corridors they walked upon were void of people, many busy with the upcoming feast which Ludwig was very aware was soon to be. He’d even sent Lovino to the Spade Royals before he’d gone in search of Feliciano to tell them it would soon be ready. He knew Kiku would never miss it nor make them late and that only made him more suspicious of the conversation he wished to have. Why now and why was he so worried?

They stopped on an outside corridor in the centre of the castle overlooking the large courtyard below. The sun was clearly making it’s decent within the sky, casting red and orange hues across the open expanse of sky they could see beyond the castle towers. Ludwig had always enjoyed watching the sunsets, especially as they cast his home colours across his castle. No matter where he was he always knew that he could look upon a sunset and be reminded of home. Leaning against the stone wall, Ludwig could see that a few of his knights were training out on the courtyard; some were duelling on the gravel, some sparing on the grass and others pretend boxing all under the watchful eyes of his head knight.

The sounds of swords clashing, grunting, orders being given and the occasional battle cry echoed up to them but they weren’t overly loud that Ludwig would not be able to hear Kiku. It was just the perfect amount of noise that should people pass they wouldn’t catch onto their conversation. This must be of importance. Ludwig did question why Kiku wouldn’t take something of such need to the privacy of his office, where they could talk freely and loudly without interruption however he realised rather quickly that his office was at the other side of the castle. They simply didn’t have the time.

“I couldn’t help but notice upon the arrival of our guests there seems to be some tension between them.”

“Is that so?” Ludwig watched Kiku’s face as he observed their knights below. He, himself, was unaware of any tension between the Spade Royals but then again he had originally mistaken them both for criminals, welcomed them both to his castle and then sent them away to the guest chambers almost immediately. He had barely even looked Queen Arthur in the eye before shoving the pair of them out the doors in order to speak urgently with Feliciano.

The meal this evening would be his first time speaking with them properly since their arrival within his kingdom. It made him feel as if he were not being the most gracious of King’s. He hadn’t even checked up on them.

Having a Queen like Kiku at his side was most helpful when it came down to situations like these. When he was too busy (or too distracted as the case maybe) to see things in close detail, Kiku was a vital component to the structure of Hearts. He was silent but clever and remarkably observant in ways that others were not – picking up on the minutest details without needing much to go on. Ludwig sometimes feared his ability to read people with just a single glance of observation. He also happened to share a rather close relationship with fellow Queen Arthur, which was proving to be useful in their current situation.

“I worry Ludwig,” Kiku sighed through his nose. “I foresee that if this built up tension is not resolved before they leave the castle walls then they will fail in their mission to reclaim their home. If their differences cannot be put aside before they leave Hearts I fear that Spades will be a lost cause.”

Ludwig paused for moment.

“You had a vision?”

“The minute I saw Arthur.”

“I thought you said they had stopped?”

Kiku turned to face him and Ludwig could see that not only was he worried but he was also scared. It unsettled Ludwig greatly, his stomach twisted into knots upon seeing the uncertainty dancing within his Queen’s deep brown eyes. Kiku hardly gave up his emotions easily, preferring to handle them of his own accord or keep them hidden until the time was right when he knew they needed to be shared. He knew it unwise to keep things bottle up and away from his King. They had had many discussions on Kiku keeping away his feelings and so far Ludwig was proud of Kiku for delving so much trust into him to openly show his emotions more.

“They had.”

“What did you see?”

“It was strange. Inconsistent, as if the fates had not yet decided.” Kiku frowned as he leant forward against the stone wall, resting his head in one hand as he remembered the images that had come before him. “They were flashes, all of different moments. As if I were being shown several versions of what could happen however they blurred by so quickly I could barely catch a glimpse of them. Alfred was screaming, so loud, and then Ivan. He was laughing. He was holding something… the Staff of Clubs and the Staff of Spades too I think. They were important; I saw them both very clearly. He… Ivan hit Arthur with the Spade Staff. Matthew and Yao were also there, in chains, beside Ivan.”

Ludwig felt as though an unseen force was constricting his throat, tightening its grip unbearably tight around him and slowly suffocating him as he watched the colour drain from Kiku’s face simply from reliving the memory. His eyes had glazed over and when he finally blinked back to the world and turned Ludwig’s way those eyes were panic stricken. This vision had Kiku shaken. Ludwig could understand. He could barely begin to imagine what it was like seeing possible futures, never mind those that were unkind to friends and family. Kiku had said many a time that the gift was both a blessing and a curse.

“Ludwig we cannot let them leave on bad terms.”

“We won’t,” He assured, although how he was going to make that happen the Heart King wasn’t entirely certain. He couldn’t magically make another person’s personal problems go away but if he didn’t at least try and convince them to settle down and speak with one another than the consequences would be far greater than just the loss of the Spade Kingdom. “If Ivan tastes the glory of ruling two kingdoms there will be no telling for the plans he will make afterwards.”

“He won’t stop. Ivan thinks that getting rid of Alfred will fill the void his sister has left behind but it will not. If Spades is lost he gains its control and once he gains that power he will not stop until he has the Four Kingdoms on their knees. Spades is the most powerful of the Four Kingdoms Ludwig. With it he could-”

“It won’t come to that.” Ludwig cut him off, placing a firm hand on his shoulder in some attempt to calm him. He didn’t want to know where Kiku’s thoughts were taking him – he couldn’t deal with that right now especially with the possibility it wouldn’t happen.

He was well aware of what Ivan could do with the Spade Kingdom in his control, he didn’t need for Kiku to voice his own concerns aloud and make them real when they needn’t be. For now, he had to believe that Alfred and Arthur would be strong enough to defeat Ivan for the sake of themselves and everyone else.

Kiku’s vision was greatly unsettling he had to admit and seeing his Queen so rattled had him on edge but he had to remain calm. He couldn’t alarm anyone else to this news, especially Alfred and Arthur themselves. It they were to know their own fate were in the balance and had not yet been decided they would only try to change it for the better and, in turn, make silly mistakes.

“We must tell no one of this. Your vision must remain secrecy. I will speak to Alfred as soon as he is fit and well. May I ask that you do the same with Arthur?”

Kiku nodded at the instruction and Ludwig gave his shoulder another firm squeeze, his Queen smiling ever so slightly before taking a breath. Ludwig had hope. With time and a little encouragement, Ludwig was positive that not all was lost just yet.

“If the fates have not yet decided then what you saw is just one of many possibilities. Alfred and Arthur have many chances before they leave to change their destiny.”

**XxXxXx**

Succulent chicken, golden turkey, steaming vegetables, colourful salads, vibrant wines and a mouth-watering smell that would make any stomach growl whether empty or full was waiting for them got down to the great hall. The great hall was just as beautiful as the throne room, if only a little less grand. In the centre of the room was a long, large table surrounded by far more chairs than they needed and decorated with rose gold plates, chalices and cutlery.

Had Alfred not been so hungry he would have stopped to appreciate it a little longer than the mere few seconds his grumbling stomach would allow. Of course, food from the woodland had been sufficient for the past couple of days but it wasn’t enough for a man such as himself. This was the kind of food he needed: the food fit for a King. So he not so subtly raced into the room, took the chair a servant was kindly holding out for him (he hoped it was for him anyway because he sat in it nonetheless) before delving into the food.

His arms flew out in all directions, pulling food toward his plate and at the same time stuffing it into his mouth. He mumbled his thanks to a woman filling up his cup beside him and only stopped his desperate food shovelling when he heard stifling laughter.

Blue eyes flickered away from the delicious food in front of him to across the table where the Heart Royals were sat. Alfred’s face flushed hot immediately. He hadn’t even acknowledged their presence; ignoring them in favour of the food but they didn’t seem to be bothered by the matter, each one trying to smother their laughter with their hand as they watched the Spade Royals opposite them.

Alfred took a brief moment and cast his gaze to his side to see Arthur frozen dead in his tracks with a bread roll stuffed in his mouth, another in his right hand and a chicken thigh in his other, several items of food piled up on his plate. His cheeks were bright red, as were his ears, as he dropped his chicken onto his plate so he could slowly remove the bread from his mouth. Green eyes darted over to Alfred only to widen in absolute horror.

Ah, yes.

Alfred remembered that he himself still held a turkey leg to his lips, a chicken thigh grasped tightly in the other hand and a mountain of food piled so high on his plate that the plate was surely going to crack under the weight. He made a small noise that sounded like a gurgled complaint as he lowered the food from his mouth, placing them where he could on the plate as he wiped his greasy hands on the red napkin he’d been provided with, smiling apologetically at the Heart Royals.

He was certain that in that moment the pair of them looked like stragglers Feliciano had felt sorry for and had pulled off the street.

“A-Apologies…” Arthur stuttered and Feliciano couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore, bursting into a fit of giggles. He bent over in his laughter, pressing his face into Lovino’s shoulder to try and suppress his loud laughs but it didn’t work and only made Lovino struggle to hold back his own. The Ace was doing his best to keep his hand pressed firm against his lips to hide the smile and hold the laughter but was making himself red in the face in the process.

Kiku, sat opposite Arthur, wasn’t laughing as outrageously as the Jack and Ace sat at his side but his shoulders were still bouncing up and down with gentle giggles and his lips curled into a soft smile that Alfred through suited his face as he watched Arthur try to hide in his chair. Ludwig shook his head at Arthur’s apology, covering his mouth to hold in his own laughter. Alfred assumed he didn’t want to come off as rude by laughing at them.

“Please, eat all you can. I imagined that you would be hungry,” he said through chuckles but Alfred could see the horror permanently plastered on his husbands face. He could practically hear Arthur wishing for the ground to open up and swallow his chair whole. With Arthur’s capabilities, he wasn’t 100% certain that Arthur wouldn’t just up and apperate out the room.

“Thank you, it’s been a rough couple of days feeding off only berries,” Alfred smiled, elbowing Arthur to try and get him to eat again. It didn’t take too much convincing; Arthur quickly had the bread roll back in his mouth again. Alfred was thankful that Arthur was just as hungry as he was and not making him out to be the pig, the two of them devouring everything in sight as he made his way through the mountain atop his plate.

Through scrumptious bites he made light conversation with the Heart Royals, unbelievably grateful when the kept their conversations strictly light-hearted and casual – not a peep of Ivan’s name mentioned whilst they ate. He smiled, laughed and ate until both his jaw and stomach hurt. He almost felt like things had been returned to normal, as if he were simply on a business trip to the Heart Kingdom until Ludwig finally addressed the elephant in the room that had hovered since Alfred had sat down.

Arthur was practically dozing in his chair; leant toward Alfred and almost snoozing on his shoulder. His head was just about to tap onto the King’s shoulder when Ludwig asked about the night of Ivan’s attack – a blunt but valid question. Immediately he sat up at the mention of the name that haunted him, rubbing his eyes to wake himself, as the room around them fell silent and all other conversation fell away with it.

Alfred felt his full stomach twist in uncomfortable ways and was at loss for words on how to truly answer Ludwig. What had happened on that night? One moment he had been mulling over their plans of attack should there been war with the Club Kingdom and then next alarm bells rang and Ivan was in his throne room attacking him with murder written in his eyes. Very soon after, Alfred had found himself on a hill top far away from the fight he should have been leading.

When he didn’t answer, Arthur took it upon himself to do the talking. Ludwig almost looked surprised that Alfred had been the one to remain quiet, his pale blue eyes lingering and forcing the Spade King to drop his gaze and look down at the other end of the room as Arthur explained.

He hated hearing this story. Over and over again he had heard it like a broken record. All he wanted was for it to be a distant memory but every time they met someone the story would be repeated right before him. Every time he closed his eyes for longer than a minute Ivan was there in the darkness, lurking, bringing that deadly sword down upon him. Alfred had been seconds from death with no escape, he had been staring it blankly in the face when Arthur’s terrified face had appeared out of nowhere, fingers grasping tightly at his coat before he felt himself fall and Ivan’s figure disappeared in a flash of blue.

The Spade King kept his head turned away from Arthur the entire time he spoke. He could feel Arthur’s eyes burning into him, watching him, and Alfred had to say that he almost felt a sense of guilt when Arthur’s voice cracked when speaking about rushing into the throne room and escaping with Alfred. To anyone else, it was heroic what Arthur had done. Yet to Alfred it was only prolonging the inevitable. Just how many more lives had they put at risk since escaping and running away?

Arthur failed to mention how his plan of escape was kept secret from the King although there was a great sense of implication, especially since Alfred was sat in his chair facing away from Arthur and remaining as silent as possible. The Queen didn’t mention their argument on top of that hilltop. Instead, he went into the details of explaining apparition to Feliciano.

After that, no one quiet knew exactly what to say.

There was an awkwardness that seemed to lie across the table like a blanket and Alfred wished that he could just stand and tear it off. He wanted things to be fine and normal for more than just ten minute intervals. He wanted to have a simple conversation with people that he considered friends and not have them teeter around him. He wanted to sit down and be able to look his own husband in the god damn eye with have that horrid feeling of distrust tug on his hair every single second of the day. Alfred wanted things to go back to how they once were before Ivan had wormed his way into his home and ruined his life.

Things had been far better when he had been slaving about in the early hours of the morning worrying about plans and whether people were going to get hurt in a war that was only on the horizon. At least then he still had Arthur.

Sighing, Alfred wiped his hands once more on the napkin laid across his lap, noting the stains already smeared on it from his greasy hands. His stomach ached from all the food his had consumed and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep. He would have been content to sit in that chair for another hour or so and simply chat had the atmosphere in the room not dipped. It felt like it was getting closer – like the walls were slowly creeping in on him.

“Thank you so much for such a wonderful meal. We owe you all so much,” Alfred thanked his fellow royals, eyes glancing over those opposite him. “If you’ll excuse me I’m rather tired and I would like to head back to my chambers.”

Rising from his chair, Alfred scrunched up his napkin and placed it on the table beside his empty plate. Out the corner of his eye he could see it was dark outside and that alone was enough to almost draw a yawn from him, the young King forcing himself not to do so in front of his hosts. Arthur’s eyes watched him get up and he hesitated, unsure whether it was his queue to follow or not.

Alfred wasn’t so sure himself. Things were complicated. Back in their chambers, as Antonio had treated them, Alfred thought that perhaps he could start to right things again. Arthur had patted his knee, small and as hesitant as it was, it was a message. The Queen wanted the contact. Alfred missed it too. Yet, Alfred wasn’t sure that tonight he could manage that. Hearing that story again brought back every feeling of why he was mad with Arthur and with it his mood turned sour.

“It is a pleasure. Please, get some rest,” Ludwig smiled, patting his lips with his napkin. Alfred nodded his head in a curt dismissal before swiftly making his way toward the doors. He was almost out the room when he heard the calling of his name.

“King Alfred!” He turned back to see Feliciano stood out his chair, his brown eyes wide and almost nervous to be stood in front of so many royals at one time. Alfred was confused by the sudden outburst, eyes catching that Arthur was also out his seat and stood only a couple paces behind him with his head turned to Feliciano, interested in what he had to say. So he had chosen to follow him.

Feliciano knotted his hands together and stood straight.

“Please sleep as well as you can tonight. I have men patrolling the castle and they will for the entire night. Your chambers are secure and your doors will be monitored at all hours. You are safe here. You are _both_ safe here,” Feliciano’s eyes shifted over to Arthur for merely a second before returning to Alfred. “Ivan cannot and will not reach you whilst you are under our protection.”

Alfred’s eyes never strayed from Feliciano, those golden pools focused solely on him as if he were the only man in the room. His eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly and he was gripping the edge of the table as if to hold his nerve but he made sure that every single word that he had spoken was understood.

Alfred had never really taken the time to notice before but Feliciano had such expressive eyes. They were large, bright and conveyed his feelings so easily then he needn’t speak them. Alfred could see them without any need for further words. He gave Alfred a small, single nod of his head and after a moment of shock Alfred retuned it with one of his own, swallowing thickly.

“T-Thank you,” He said quietly, lips quivering slightly as he tried to smile at the Jack. He gave the other Heart Royals a bow of his head before turning on his heal and striding out the room far faster than he had previously intended – he practically sprinted down the corridors when he was out of sight. He needed to get to the solace of his chambers. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Arthur’s footsteps struggling to keep up but not once did the Queen call out to him.

He could feel his chest tightening and his eyes burned with the tears that he wanted to shed but he refused to cry whilst a servant might see him. He was sick of the crying. He felt like all he had done so far on this journey was cry and act like a hormonal teenager. It was ridiculous. He just needed to sleep in a comfortable bed where he could be warm and safe.

By the time Alfred made it back to the guest chambers he was almost out of breath, the armed guards spotting him instantly and opening his doors for him to allow him entry. He stumbled into the room like he’d had one too many to drink, stopping dead in the centre when he saw both his and Arthur’s royal blue cloaks folded neatly on the bed. Behind him, Arthur raced into the room and skidded to a halt when he saw Alfred staring at the cloaks, watching in silence as the King slowly approached the bed and ran his fingers over the fabric.

How had it only been a few days since he had first put this around his shoulders and over his head? How had it only been a few days since he’d handed over his beautiful royal attire, shredded and bloodied to Mary and John? Alfred could barely stop the tears as they made his vision blur.

“Do you want to talk?” Arthur asked, his voice quiet. The question would have startled him had he not know it was coming. Alfred had said it himself earlier; they would talk after dinner but he… he couldn’t.

“Not right now.”

“But you said-”

“Arthur.”

“ _Alfred_.”

Alfred span around to face Arthur just as a tear fell down his cheek. Arthur was stood frowning at him, however it wasn’t an angry frown like Alfred was used to - this was exasperated. Arthur looked just as tired and fed up as he did. His green eyes were dull and shinning with a layer of tears but unlike Alfred he forced them back as if they had never made an appearance. Instead, his eyes softened upon seeing his King’s tears, his shoulders falling and his pent up breath falling in a sigh. He was upset and mad but Alfred could see he wasn’t going to press their matter of talking any further.

“Didn’t you hear Feliciano back there? You are safe.”

A lump formed in the back of his throat that Alfred didn’t seem to be able to swallow at the sound of those words and he willed himself not to break down and cry but it was such an overwhelming feeling. Alfred couldn’t help but cry. Turning his head away, he tried not to think back to the kind words Feliciano had said to him. They were hardly anything more than standard procedure but Feliciano had said them with such passion, such care and such understanding that Alfred was beside himself.

The minute that Arthur saw Alfred’s shoulders begin to shake with an oncome of tears, he strode across the room and wrapped his arms around Alfred as if nothing had ever changed between them. His frame locked perfectly into Alfred’s; his head fitting snuggly beneath Alfred’s chin, arms tightly winding around Alfred’s torso and his face resting gently against Alfred’s chest.

At first, Alfred did nothing but stiffen in shock at the sudden contact before his arms curled around his Queen and he buried his face into Arthur’s soft hair with a strangled cry. The smell was unfamiliar and he missed the usual smell of Arthur’s hair but he could barely linger on those thoughts as his tears soaked into those familiar blond strands.

“Do you hear that Alfred? Safe. We are safe,” Arthur whispered, repeating it to both of them as he rubbed Alfred’s back soothingly. Alfred’s grip on him tightened, holding him closer as if Arthur wasn’t close enough, as his chest heaved from his tears. In that single moment, Alfred remembered that Ivan wasn’t out for his head alone.

He hadn’t been safe in weeks; he hadn’t felt safe in months. Ivan was a threat that loomed over his head everywhere he went. Every breath he took could always be his last and to have someone go out their way to make him comfortable – to keep him _safe_ – it had him ache all over.

His legs suddenly felt weak, giving into the exhaustion that Alfred had fought off after days of none stop walking. He took Arthur down with him, the pair crashing to their knees on the floor but Arthur didn’t complain, he simply continued to hold Alfred, stroking his hair as comfortingly as he could as Alfred clung to his shirt desperately.

The Heart Kingdom had done nothing but take risk after risk for him since first laying their eyes on him. They had willingly placed themselves into a war they had previously stayed clear of just to keep him from the clutches of Ivan and his men. Since Feliciano had found him wondering the woods and decided to bring them here he had been patched up, bathed, fed until his stomach hurt and kept under the watchful eye of every spare guard the Heart Castle could lend. Feliciano had said it himself; no harm could ever come to him here.

Hearts had placed themselves like a wall between him and Ivan just to keep him safe for a few nights longer.

Alfred didn’t know how long he sat on the floor of their chambers crying into Arthur’s arms, listening to his soothing words and gentle humming, or when Arthur convinced him to change and finally settle down into bed. All he really remembered was that the bed was the comfiest thing he had touched in days and that Arthur – his sweet and beautiful Arthur – was someone that he couldn’t bear to be without for much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Now this is what we call a breakdown my friends! Alfred is a mess and everybody cries! Both he and Arthur are a little emotional, after all, they haven’t been somewhere they consider safe in months. 
> 
> To those that have been asking, yes, in the previous chapter Alfred is merely a vision to Ivan. Spade Castle was built on magical land and so magic course through the stone. The castle itself is well aware of Ivan and his intentions and is attempting to protect itself by sending Ivan mad. Sorry if I hadn’t made that very clear. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

Four days.

For four days Alfred was locked within the walls of the Heart castle, wondering aimlessly in a thoughtless daze. Spades felt so far away, so untouchable and only seemed to be getting further from his grasp every time Alfred watched with patient stares as Antonio unwound Arthur’s bandages and checked his wounds. They were slow to heal but healing they were.

Despite that night coddled up in the warmth of Arthur’s embrace, he felt more distant from him now more than ever. Arthur was avoiding him. He could tell without words that his husband was done feeling sorry for him, he was done chasing him and in all honesty Alfred couldn’t blame him. He passed Alfred with his nose turned up in the air, their chambers carried a cold chill that brought a shiver to his spine and each night was spent with their back turned to one another. Alfred always had to resist the urge to turn around and press his hand against Arthur’s back just to have that contact.

Now that he’d had that taste of Arthur so close, having him gone again was pure agony – Arthur knew that. He was using it against him. He was proving a point.

Whenever Alfred even attempted to get close to the Queen, Arthur would move several steps in the opposite direction. At meal times, Arthur kept his chair as far away from Alfred’s as he possibly could without it looking strange, he refused to look in his direction and he barely spoke a word to him unless it was absolutely necessary – even then it was short, brief sentences.

It was driving Alfred up the wall. He wanted to scream at Arthur because, yes, he had made his point very clear; he understood now just how awful it felt being pushed aside so abruptly. If Alfred had learnt anything from that one evening, it was that his breakdown had made things far worse. He supposed that being told that he would get his time to explain, only to have it shoved aside and be forced to comfort Alfred and then have things immediately thrown back to how they were the morning after was the last straw for Arthur.

Alfred could only force a smile and try to hide his discomfort when a serving girl casually mentioned just how long they had been in Hearts. She was cleaning their room, as she had for the last few days, as she spoke about how delighted and honoured she was to be given such a duty. She also said how she was hopeful at Ivan’s silence, apologising when the mention of the Club King’s name had Alfred drop the book he was reading over by the dresser.

He gave her a stern look that told her she had overstepped her place, but said nothing as he picked his book back up, unable to refocus on the pages. The thought of Ivan going silent was worrisome. Ivan didn’t go silent unless he had a plan, no doubt a bad one at that.

Closing his book, Alfred placed it on top of the dresser and made a swift exit in search of Ludwig.

Surprisingly he didn’t have to go far; he had barely stepped onto the stairs when he spotted the Heart King already on his way up. Apparently he too was in need of a word with Alfred. He appeared troubled when Alfred noticed him; head down in thought and watching his feet against the stone but that was quickly washed away when he realised that it was Alfred approaching him and a flurry of worry.

Alfred did hope that he hadn’t scared the poor serving woman too much running out on her like that and leaving her on her own. That was the last thing he would want however he hoped that she would understand the circumstances. Ivan was a touchy subject and certainly not one that he openly discussed with his own servants let alone those of another kingdom.

She would have been in the merry company of Arthur if he too hadn’t of left the room earlier when he had been requested to meet the Heart Queen elsewhere in the castle – Arthur didn’t care to mention where, just that he was leaving.

“You were coming to speak with me?” Alfred questioned as Ludwig led him down the stairs.

He had to admit, walking beside Ludwig in the same rugged clothes he had been since he had arrived, Alfred felt stupid. The same pale blue tunic, tatty old brown waist coat, brown trousers that were thinning at the knees and now had slight tears in them from where he’d fallen out of that darn tree and scuffed ankle boots - it was nothing compared to the high and mighty kingly attired Ludwig adjourned.

Alfred was more than a little jealous. He missed his old clothes; the ones that were comfortable and made of the finest materials - the ones that made him feel worthy of something. Clothes that made him feel like he was more than just some lousy man making all the wrong choices.

Here, he looked like a Spade servant that King Ludwig had merely borrowed.

“I was. Just a quick word really, but please, I would like to hear what you have to say first. You look rather troubled,” Ludwig, as polite as ever, offered with a gentle smile. His icy blue eyes looked Alfred over as they walked; carefully noting the way Alfred slouched his shoulders and sighed heavily – very unlike a king but, then again, Alfred didn’t look or feel like a King. He hadn’t since the moment of the invasion. There was no point in acting like one.

“I think Arthur and I should leave soon. Your hospitality has been unbelievable as always but Ivan’s silence has me deeply concerned. Whatever he’s plotting it can’t be good. He doesn’t take well to loosing and having me escape from right under his nose is a big blow to his plans. For him to be so quiet for so longer afterwards is just… it’s bad news Ludwig and my brother is in that castle with him. I can’t imagine what he’s going through whilst I stand here and idly watch from afar. I have to go home.”

Alfred took in glance in Ludwig’s direction for his reaction but the other was facing ahead of him, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly and deep in thought as he led Alfred down another hallway. He had not meant to ramble, yet he didn’t want to state his intentions to leave and then run off again. That would be rude. Surely Ludwig would know that he would want to leave the moment he and Arthur were on their feet again.

He briefly wondered what Ludwig was thinking along with where exactly they were headed – not recognising the corridor they were walking – but he soon brushed it aside when the other nodded his head slowly and his gaze returned to him. It was a look of pure understanding, just as Alfred had been expecting. Ludwig always seemed to understand everything. Alfred hoped that one day he could be equally as understanding as Ludwig.

“I agree that Ivan’s prolonged silence is indeed worrying and I understand your reasons for leaving; you were not here to stay for so long in the first place.” Ludwig stopped himself suddenly with a frown. “Forgive me that sounded awfully rude.”

“Oh no, you’re right. Arthur and I were only here to get patched up. I do feel like we’ve outstayed our welcome.”

“You should never feel such things Alfred. Four days is hardly any time at all. You and Arthur are always welcomed guests here in Hearts, especially in such desperate times. Ivan is a forced that cannot be handled alone,” Ludwig said with a side glance in his direction.

Alfred’s eyes dropped to his feet immediately at the words and he almost fell a couple of paces behind however he managed to catch back up without looking too ridiculous, following closely as the two Kings approached a pair of oak doors. They were grand, almost as grand as those to the throne room, and they were opened up for them immediately by two guards with a single nod of Ludwig’s head. Without a hiccup in their stride, Ludwig led them inside what was the Heart Gallery.

Alfred had never seen a room like it.

Large frames hung upon the walls holding extravagant paintings, not an inch of space left of the walls to be seen from all the beautiful art work. Colours exploded from the frames, swirled into patters, landscapes and portraits hung around the room frozen in time for people to observe for years upon years to come. Alfred had never seen so much art. Sure, Spades had a lot of paintings, mosaics and statues but this was incredible.

The gasp that left his lips seemed to echo throughout the room as he strayed from Ludwig’s side, the Heart King slowing to a stop as the Spade King continued, wonder luring him into the centre of the room with an open mouth. His eyes darted this way and that, not knowing where to look first, head drawn upwards to see that evening the ceiling standing all the way above his head was painted with such intricate details.

Statues were pushed into all four corners of the room, standing tall and barely peering out from the paintings hanging around and above them. Alfred could distinctly make out that directly across the room from the doors, straight in front of him in fact, was a large golden frame of the three current Heart Royals. Ludwig stood in the centre of the frame, crown on his head and the Staff of Hearts in hand whilst Kiku and Feliciano stood on either side of him, each wearing their own respective crowns and smiling happily.

Alfred had, quite frankly, never seen such a beautiful room. Ludwig had never shown him the gallery before and now he was left to question why this area of the castle had remained closed off. Surely this was a talking point that left every single one of Ludwig’s guest speechless. It was simply stunning.

Alfred realised, when he stopped gawking at the ceiling, that the large gallery was completely empty. There wasn’t even a single guard present within the room. It was just he and Ludwig, the latter smiling softly at his reaction to the room.

“Woah…” Alfred breathed out, blue eyes moving back to the paintings and flicking between each one, unsure what to say or where to look. Each one was so beautiful and although he wanted to keep looking, he turned around to look back to his fellow King a few paces behind him.

“Space his becoming quiet the issue. This is the main gallery. We have a second, just through that door and we are going to have to make way for a third soon,” He explained with a proud smile, Alfred’s eyes widening with such information.

“Three galleries?!”

Ludwig looked as if he would have laughed at Alfred’s shocked expression yet there seemed to be something holding him back, something that was clearly bothering him that he had yet to convey. The way he was watching Alfred, seemingly monitoring his every movement and stepping around him had Alfred on edge that perhaps this sudden trip to the gallery was no special pass. Hadn’t Ludwig said earlier that there was something he wanted to talk about?

“Why are you showing me this now?” Alfred asked with a hint of suspicion.

“I thought you might need a little beautiful in times where you are leaving into such darkness.”

“…”

“There is also something I wish to speak with you about, Alfred.”

“Ah, I thought so,” Alfred muttered, scuffing his boot on the marbled floor. This was clever. Stun him with something remarkably beautiful and then attack him with the topic of conversation that clearly sounded like it would be something Alfred wouldn’t like. Very clever Ludwig.

“I would have asked you after the feast when I noticed it but clearly you were in need of much rest and I thought it wise for you to sleep before asking such… serious questions.”

Alfred quirked an eyebrow when Ludwig paused, as if he were contemplating carefully how to phrase his next sentence. Only when Alfred realised that he had his arms folded and his eyebrow quirked in expectance did he realise that he must have looked like Arthur, quickly unfolding his arms and brushing down his shirt to do something instead.

“Do you think that Arthur pulling you out of your battle with Ivan was cowardly? Is that the reason that you avoid him?”

Alfred already had his mouth open to argue but found that Ludwig’s questions were not the ones that he had been expecting. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown immediately, mouth closing as he processed just what the other King had said to him. Things between him and Arthur were personal – to ask such questions were touching upon buttons that Ludwig didn’t need to become involved with.

Yet, it instilled a pause for thought. Did Alfred think that it was cowardly? He had never really taken the time to think of it like that.

He hated to run from a fight, he always had, especially those that he were supposed to lead. This was his fight. Alfred was the one supposed to be setting the example and showing his kingdom that Ivan was not someone to be feared. He had to show that Ivan was not someone they had to cower in fear at every time he came knocking on their front door because if he didn’t who would? He was their King. He was their symbol of hope and strength.

However Arthur had raced in like a hero when he hadn’t asked for it, when he hadn’t known it was coming. He had torn him away from the fight that Alfred was leading and in doing so had shown his entire kingdom that their leader – their beloved King – had run away out of fear and gone back on everything he stood up for. He had abandoned them and left them with the very thing they feared the most. That tore Alfred apart.

Of course, had Arthur not done as he had Alfred might not be stood talking with Ludwig. He couldn’t be mad at Arthur for saving his life – he just couldn’t and he never would be. Arthur had willingly put his own life at risk in order to protect him. To be willing to sacrifice himself and stare Ivan down in the face of death when he was just inches from his target was an act of bravery not even Alfred was sure he could accomplish.

However, Arthur and every single member of his council had known of desperate plans to evacuate him from the castle should Ivan attack. His entire council had been in agreement that risking their Queen was worth it if their King survived. Arthur had gone behind his back and he could have died in his act.

“I-I…” Alfred couldn’t piece together the words he wanted to form a coherent sentence, his thoughts flashing by far too fast for words to form properly. Did he think that Arthur’s actions were cowardly? No. Did he view himself as a coward for running to the Heart Kingdom instead of marching straight back to Spades and fighting for his throne? Perhaps.

After everything he had been through, after everything he had battled through, both mentally and physically, was everything he had accomplished so far all just an act of cowardice and running away?

“H…Have I just been running away this whole time?” Alfred asked, voice hardly above a whisper, unsure whether he was asking Ludwig or himself. Ludwig didn’t give him an answer to his question; he barely even batted an eyelid.

“Staying to battle Ivan to the death would have been a means to an end. One of you would have come out the victor and one of the Four Kingdoms would be leaderless – you would indeed have played into his hands if you will. Sometimes stepping back and looking for another way around is just as noble. It certainly takes a lot more courage. Alfred, I don’t think you a coward for leaving that fight.”

Alfred swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat from the way Ludwig was looking at him. His eyes were stern but in a caring way, like a father about to give his son a lecture. It made Alfred feel so much younger when Ludwig had moments like this. In reality, Ludwig was only two years older than him but he held so much wisdom that Alfred felt as if he had been left behind. He still had so much to learn.

“I think you’re incredibly brave. Stepping away does not make you a coward; it certainly does not make you any less of a King. You walk these halls as if those clothes upon your back define you, as if you no longer rule over the Spade Kingdom. You act like the crown is no longer resting on your head. Your title still remains Alfred. You can’t lose hope. Ivan might seem powerful now but you are the King of Spades – the Kingdom _chose_ you.”

Ludwig stepped forward to give his shoulder a hard poke.

“More importantly, you’re Alfred. If anyone is going to have the best chance at taking down the Club King it’s you.”

“Ludwig I-”

The Heart King gave Alfred a look that told him not to interrupt so Alfred went silent once more. He appreciated what Ludwig was saying but Ivan was like a wall that Alfred couldn’t break down. Each time Alfred felt time he had pulled a brick loose, Ivan had already built up another layer – the wall kept getting higher and Alfred was sat at clawing at the bottom whilst Ivan stood high at the top building away. It felt impossible.

“If you let this conflict come between yourself and Arthur you might as well hand the crown over to Ivan yourself. If you allow Ivan to take Spades he gets to take your Arthur with it. Running from a fight is not cowardly. Coming back around and reclaiming what’s yours whilst maintaining your humanity is what makes a King great,” Ludwig said, placing his hand on Alfred’s shoulder firmly. Alfred could almost feel the way his eyes bore into him, as if the Heart King was trying to engrain the statement into Alfred’s brain via their eye contact until he understood.

As his hand fell away, those pale blue eyes looked away to the painting down the far end of the gallery and he released a heavy sigh. Alfred noted that he was looking at his own portrait. When he returned his gaze, his eyes were softer, gentler, this time and he seemed almost hesitant, as if he were afraid to reveal his thoughts. However, he quickly seemed to make up his mind, deciding to speak them for the sake of his lecture.

“I had a fight with someone I care about recently and although it was short our voices were raised, words were tossed to and fro without thought and I have to admit that it hurt. I can’t begin to imagine the pain you or Arthur have been through these last couple of days, or even months for that matter, but you have to fix whatever is broken between you before you leave. You cannot fight on broken foundations Alfred.”

Alfred remained silent, staring distantly at his boots. He felt awfully like he was being told off by a parent – like his father was back from the dead to scold him one last time. It was almost funny, how stupid Alfred felt, had Ludwig’s words not been so real and hit so hard.

Was the reason that everything seemed to be going wrong so far simply because he was pushing Arthur further and further away? He couldn’t deny that the yearning to have Arthur close was at its worse. Now more than ever he wanted to hold Arthur in his arms, to hold him and kiss him and have his hand wrapped tightly in his so they could pretend none of this was a problem anymore. Had he already ruined their relationship to the point of no return?

The Spade King hated that he appeared to be fraying so badly that even King Ludwig deemed it necessary to give him such a pep talk. Just who else knew how badly he was dealing with all this? Perhaps Alfred wasn’t cut out to be a King in the first place if he couldn’t deal with something as simple as an old enemy.

“Why do you hesitate?” Ludwig asked suddenly, his voice making Alfred jump as it tore through his inner thoughts. His blue eyes snapped upwards to see the Heart King stood with his head tilted to one side ever so slightly, trying to catch Alfred’s eye that were so desperately trying to avoid him.

“I…What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t beat him? He has magic, power, my castle and my people Ludwig. What if-”

“I’m hearing a lot of ‘what ifs’ in that sentence,” Ludwig interrupted. “You have the strength in leaps and bounds Alfred, both physically and mentally. You need to believe that. What’s special about the Spade Kingdom is that its royals come as two halves, almost like a coin. One had the power and the other has the magic. You and Arthur are bound by a connection stronger than anything I have ever seen. You don’t need magic to beat him Alfred, Arthur provides you with it.”

Alfred found that his eyes were drawn away from Ludwig at that moment, his head turning to over his shoulder to the painting at the far end of the room again. It was the one of the three Heart Royals and his eyes immediately met with the vivid blue of Ludwig’s eyes within the portrait instead. The crown atop his head was so intricately drawn atop his perfect blond hair however it didn’t overtake the entire painting or outshine the other two royals. In fact, Kiku and Feliciano were just as prominent as Ludwig was.

Ludwig’s footsteps sounded close by as he moved to stand next to him, also looking down the large room to the painting.

“You are not just one man fighting another. You represent the kingdom and a kingdom thrives upon royals who work as one. A King may be the face of his people but his Queen and his Jack are just as important. We must value them and trust them. Without them a kingdom cannot function and, quite honestly, we King’s would go mad.”

Alfred cracked a small smile at Ludwig’s attempt to lighten the mood just a little. He could think of many times where both Yao and Arthur had saved him from going crazy in his office or in meetings. He was incredibly grateful to have such kind and caring people at his side.

“If you attempt to fight Ivan without clear communication with Arthur then you will lose. Your castle and everyone in it will fall. We do not stand any higher than them simply because we hold the title of King. We do not bare the whole burden of a kingdom ourselves; it is shared across us all. Spade Castle is built upon love and family, more so than any other castle in the Four Kingdoms. I’ve seen Arthur and yourself side by side and it is a formidable sight that Ivan should fear. There should be no doubt in your mind that you will get your home back. Alfred, you are young and both you and Arthur are allowed to make mistakes. What counts is that you learn from them.”

Alfred took in a deep breath and slowly released it, nodding his head as he stared down the portrait. He couldn’t help but think of how the artist must have felt whilst painting it, sitting and watching as the three royals stood and smiled so perfectly so their features could be captured forever in time. Again, Ludwig placed a firm hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

With another breath, he tried to reconfigure his thoughts. Ludwig had given him so many wise words that Alfred felt a little sheepish but if there was one thing he had learned from standing there and listening to Ludwig it was that the Heart King believed in him – more so than he did. It was uplifting. It gave him confidence and with confidence there was something he needed to do; something that could no longer be pushed aside for the sake of his own self-pity and self-doubt, something he could run from no more.

If he was going to end this and reclaim his throne like the symbol of hope that he had promised his kingdom he would be then he needed to stop being afraid of the one thing he had no reason to fear.

Turning his head to his fellow King he found that cool blue eyes were already waiting for him, gentle and knowledgeable beyond his years. Alfred could only wonder how Ludwig had come to be such an incredible King – he certainly wanted whichever teacher Ludwig had grown up with.

“Thank you,” He said earnestly, almost breathlessly, pulling Ludwig into a bone crushing hug that the other had clearly not been expecting. It was like hugging a stone statue at first before his arms came up to pat Alfred’s back. Giving Alfred a final nod, the Spade King darted toward the large doors which opened despite there not being a single guard in the room to see him coming.

When Alfred had the sudden realisation that he had no idea where he was actually going he skidded across the marble floor to a stop, turning back to Ludwig with his mouth open in question however the thought was barely on his tongue when Ludwig already had his answer.

“He’ll be in the gardens.”

Alfred quirked an eyebrow in suspicion but Ludwig only shrugged his shoulders innocently, an ever so slight smirk on his lips, but he didn’t hang around to ask further questions as he sped off in a sprint down the corridors. He wouldn’t hide anymore and he certainly wouldn’t run. He couldn’t run from Arthur like this anymore. Ludwig was right. The longer he pushed Arthur away the more he risked losing him forever and if that were to happen he would never rid of Ivan. He couldn’t lose both Arthur and his kingdom.

Alfred wouldn’t lose Arthur to his enemy because of his own fears.

Stumbling and fumbling like a buffoon, he darted through the corridors as fast as he could. With his light footwork he made ease of the servants dotted about his path going about their daily business; sliding out their way and leaping over their baskets along with the shout of _‘sorry!’_ was hardly King-like but Alfred wasn’t in the mood to stop and make formal apologies.

Within a couple of minutes the Spade King had made it to the other side of the castle where the gardens were located. It was peaceful over upon this side of Heart Castle, the only sound the rushed drumming of his boots against the ground. Approaching the archway out to the gardens, he almost sent Queen Kiku flying. The Heart Queen hardly even flinched as Alfred careened toward him, only just managing to stop his feet in time and using one of the stone columns to grab onto so he wouldn’t hit him. It hurt his arm slightly but at least he hadn’t hit Kiku.

“Kiku!” He squawked, pushing his glasses up his nose and standing straight to try and make himself look more presentable as if he hadn’t just raced halfway across the castle as if his like depended on it. Kiku’s deep brown eyes looked down the length of his body before climbing back up to his eyes again, giving him a light smile and a slight bow of the head.

“Your Queen sits beside the roses,” He said with a knowing smile that had Alfred thoroughly confused before he simply walked off.

Alfred turned to watch him go as he regained his breath, leaning slightly against the cool column. Did Kiku know something that Alfred didn’t? Suddenly Alfred’s stomach lurched and he swore that he lost all feeling in the tips of his toes but he couldn’t turn back now. He couldn’t leave this longer than he already had. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to either of them. Talking to Arthur would be hard enough, the longer he left it the worse it would be. His Queen probably wouldn’t even want to look at him and who could blame him? After the way he had acted, Alfred struggled to look in the mirror himself.

His emotions had been all over the charts. He had told Arthur to come and then go again several times over but now was the time. Alfred was ready this time. Ludwig had made it quite clear. They couldn’t fight on broken foundations – he couldn’t put it better himself.

If they left now and got to Spade Castle to fight, their foundations would only fall out from underneath their feet and the results would be catastrophic.

So with determination alight in his soul, Alfred took the first step into the gardens in search of his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hallelujah! Alfred is finally seeing the light and all it took was some wise words from Ludwig. In the next chapter we finally get to see Alfred and Arthur take two steps in the right direction instead of backwards. It feels like ages since they’ve been civil with each other. 
> 
> Also, the schedule may change for this story in the upcoming weeks. I’m practically drowning in uni work currently but I’m going to try my very best to stick to the Saturday upload and keep it going!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

Heart Gardens was an extravagant expanse of land off toward the back off the castle; enclosed by the palace walls, it held some of the most beautiful flower arrangements that Arthur had ever seen. Flowers of mainly reds and pinks bloomed all over however there were the occasional other colours dotted around here and there. Trees stood tall against the walls, hiding the stone that protected the gardens from the outside, along with towering bushes and perfect gravel footpaths that twisted and turned in all directions around the flower beds. The smells were beyond measure; different fragrances drifted into one and, along with the peaceful silence, created a beautiful serenity. Nature thrived here – off these plants.

Arthur felt calm and at ease here. Sat on one of many benches, he was shaded from the sun by a tree hanging overhead, its long branches reaching over the walls to be a part of the gardens. This garden was brilliant and its features were fascinating however it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as his garden back home.

Spades Garden was truly a sight to be seen.

It was far larger with much more variation in flowers and plants. The colours were more alive, more vibrant. Back home, Arthur tended to every flower himself. He loved his garden and it loved him back.

Staring at the rose bush beside him, he decided that he preferred the rarer sort of flower found only in the Spade Kingdom than he did to those that grew here in Hearts. Red roses were beautiful and the colour was rich and intense but the blue roses that he grew back in the comfort of his own garden were so incredibly rare and delicate that he missed them. Their blue hues of the soft petals were not unlike the colours of his royal emblem as they sat against the green of the spiked stem that secured them to the bush.

In some sense, the blue rose of his kingdom reminded him of he and Alfred.

He was gently brushing his fingers over the petals of a rose when he heard the sound of footsteps crunching across the gravel toward him, eyes lifting in that direction instantly to see Alfred hesitantly approaching. His cheeks appeared flushed and he looked almost dishevelled in his appearance as he stopped as if he were approaching a wild animal. With a slight pause, he nodded his head to the bench that Arthur sat upon.

“Is it alright if I sit?”

Alfred sounded, dare Arthur say, timid as he asked the question but Arthur only nodded and turned his head back to continue staring absent-mindedly at the roses at his side. He merely admired their beauty like he had for the past hour, trying to distract himself from just how close Alfred positioned himself on the bench beside him and remained silent.

He was not in the mood to speak, especially to Alfred.

After everything that had happened, after yet another one of Alfred’s walls had crumbled only to be rebuilt twice as strong, he had decided that talking was simply no longer an option. Alfred needed the time to come to terms with himself before he could face anyone else. Arthur deemed that silence was best even if the destruction of silence had brought them into this mess originally. Alfred had been pushing him away all this time – he was tired of trying. Without words, Alfred couldn’t find reason to hate him further.

Memory of Kiku’s words drifted through his head at the thoughts and he internally sighed. There was certainly some food for thought. When the Heart Queen had called for them to meet in the gardens he had not expected such a long-winded lecture. He was unaware that Kiku was the lecturing type but he supposed it was pleasant to learn something new each day. In fact, Arthur was quiet certain that their chat was possibly the longest he had ever heard Kiku speak. Such wise words they had been too. Arthur had almost felt incompetent sitting at his side.

“I don’t think there has ever been a time where I’ve hated Ivan more than I do right now. After all these years, after everything he’s said to me and after everything he’s done… I think I hate him more now for this than for ever attempting to take my throne.”

Arthur’s head lifted, turning from the roses to face Alfred where the younger King was staring into his lap where he was nervously pressing his thumb into his palm. Slowly, familiar blue eyes met with Arthur’s and he couldn’t help but look away almost instantly. He had to wonder where along this journey the tables had turned so that he was the one that couldn’t hold a gaze.

“For what?” He asked lightly, not quite understanding what Alfred was getting at.

“This.” Alfred motioned between them. “Look at what he did to us…look at what _I_ did to us…” Alfred trailed off for a moment and Arthur could feel his eyes burning into him as he stared at the gravel by his boots. “I was so angry at Ivan and I was angry at the fight. I allowed those feelings to bubble up and fuse with my overwhelmed feelings about your actions until I did nothing but unleash everything onto you. That wasn’t fair. What I said back on that hill; I was blinded by fury and frustration that I had carried for weeks.”

Alfred’s words were honest and the most truthful Arthur had heard his voice in weeks as he sat there and drank them in. As much as he wished to speak, to intercept and justify that Alfred had his rights to be angry with him, he didn’t want to stop Alfred. The Spade King had been guarded for so long that here, Arthur felt like he were talking to someone new, a stranger with an aura around him that Arthur simply couldn’t place. It made him question just what had changed for Alfred in the short space of one morning.

“What I said about your lies remains true. Everything I said in the woods is no bit of a lie and I meant every word. I won’t ask for you to explain anything to be, no matter how much you want to. Not until I apologise. I’ve been far from co-operable and I still don’t understand how you stayed at my side through my moping and moods but I’m so tired of running away. I won’t run anymore. I won’t run from Ivan and I certainly won’t run from you.”

Arthur couldn’t help the way he startled slightly when he felt the warmth of Alfred’s hand brushing against his own that was resting on the bench between them, his eyes drifting down to see Alfred’s little finger hesitantly touching his own. The Queen bit his lip but found he couldn’t resist the contact, no matter how small the gesture was, his own finger brushing Alfred’s in return until Alfred’s hand (admittedly rather shakily) came across and sat atop his own.

“I’m sorry Arthur.”

Letting his eyes follow the curves of Alfred’s arm upwards to his eyes he found that his husband was already waiting for his gaze, pools of blue so clear and open like the ocean that Arthur could see straight into the King’s soul. He could see everything simply by staring into those beautiful eyes. No more words were needed. He could feel it. Like every emotion was being passed through their fingertips – he could feel Alfred’s longing, his frustration and his desperation.

It almost made him breathless.

After a second of staring, of understanding, Arthur got his words together. Alfred wasn’t the only one who owed an apology.

“I’m sorry too. I’ve been far from truthful and when you needed me the most I failed you. Under no circumstances were my intentions to go behind your back nor were they ever to lie to you. You have to believe me when I say it was never my idea, I was against it from the very beginning but we didn’t have a choice…” Arthur trailed off, looking down into his lap as the memory resurfaced.

That meeting where he had made the decision to break his King’s heart for the sake of his life would haunt him for years. He wanted nothing more than to repress it but he knew that now more than ever it was important for it to stay clear like crystal in his head. He would have to retell it to Alfred – to tell him and make him understand that none of this was ever his true intentions. They had simply run out of options.

Taking Alfred out the castle without his consent was never meant to cause him this much pain. Had Arthur known the true meaning of Matthew’s words of warning that he had shared all them weeks ago within that meeting then perhaps he wouldn’t have agreed. Perhaps things could have been different, very different. Yet Arthur had given in after a multitude of arguments and thought. He had seen the light in his councils plans and if his happiness was to be put aside for the sake of Alfred’s life then Arthur knew it was one that had to be made.

Arthur was torn from his thoughts when Alfred slowly entangled their fingers until he was holding his hand, the Queen noting immediately that Alfred’s hand was warm and clammy in comparison to his own cold fingers that had previously held onto the stone bench as if it were his only support. The smile that graced his lips was small but genuine at the familiar feeling of Alfred’s hand in his, the sensation alone sending butterflies swirling in his stomach as if this was the first time Alfred had ever held his hand.

Silence.

For the first time in days, this was a silence that Arthur felt comfortable in. He felt like he could sit there, with Alfred at his side, for hours on end just watching as nature continued on around them. So little had been said and yet Arthur had never felt so light.

So much tension, so much volatile air, had diminished with mere words that seemed so small in comparison to the grand speeches that Arthur had prepared in his head. He had thought about this moment for days and yet, now it was here right before him, he’d barely said a word of what he had planned. Never in a million years had he expected Alfred to waltz into the gardens like a changed man, completely at face with his own demons as if they had been labelled for him.

Arthur had the feeling that his dear Alfred hadn’t done all of this on his own. One man couldn’t change his attitude so dramatically without having someone open their eyes onto a new perspective – Kiku had certainly shown him some of that during their little chat – but Alfred had marched in here like the soldier that he was and apologised.

Arthur wasn’t even certain that if was fair for him to apologise first – if anyone was to give the first apology he felt like he had done enough wrong doings to be first in line. But he wouldn’t complain nor would he deny Alfred his explanation any longer because his King deserved better. He deserved much, much better. He deserved better than the lies Arthur had placed upon his back and he deserved for more than the turmoil his life had turned into. As Queen, and more importantly, as Alfred’s husband, Arthur refused to play a part in his emotional suffering more than he already had.

“Do you…Do you want the story of why?” Arthur asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned to see Alfred watching a butterfly pass over the flowers. Alfred’s eyes flickered in his direction and he seemed almost uncertain for a second before he nodded, bringing Arthur’s hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his hand. Arthur chided himself that such a small action brought heat to his cheeks.

“I think I'm ready,” Alfred replied, lips curling into a smile when he noticed the way Arthur’s cheeks had turned the smallest shades of pink. The Queen looked away out of embarrassment but he didn’t let go of Alfred’s hand as he lowered it between them once more. His King was always such a charmer.

Arthur nodded and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he remembered everything that had happened during those meetings. Those horrible dreaded meetings where everyone would gather behind the secrecy of closed doors where not even the King of Spades himself could peer inside.

**XxXxXx**

_Sat quietly at the head of the table, Arthur looked down the length of the long wooden piece of furniture to where Yao was stood at the other end. He was leant forward, his palms pressed flat against the table as he stared right back at the Queen before surveying the others in the room with them. Arthur did not want to be here and Yao could tell - the look he was given was different to the one of which was given to everyone else. Yao was very clearly telling him to behave and pay attention._

_“This meeting is a private meeting that is to stay within the secrecy of these walls. If word of this gathering even occurring is let slip the consequences could be disastrous. We are here to discuss the safety of the King and if any information leaves this room, so much as reaches the ears of another man, you could be responsible for his harm.”_

_Arthur folded his arms across his chest, sitting back in his chair. The back rose high above his head into two spires with small spades at the top, each with intricate designs carved into the wood. To Arthur, it was a chair far more decorated than it needed to be. Naturally, it wasn’t his throne but it was close enough and provided evidence that he was of higher statue than anyone else within the room – not that he needed it. He felt ridiculous sat in it but Yao felt it a necessary requirement that he stand out amongst the others; his council and his knights currently lined the table between he and Yao, listening with attentive ears._

_“For the King’s wellbeing we are holding this meeting without his knowledge-”_

_“Why lie to him?” Arthur interrupted, all eyes turning to land upon him. He hated the thought of lying to Alfred. It wasn’t fair. Sure, he was the Queen of this Kingdom, he could do so as he pleased but lying to Alfred? The thought alone felt wrong. Even if this was the right thing to do, it made him feel awful. Alfred would never be open for a plan that completely surrounded his own safety. He cared far too much about others for that. Yet he was King and it was Arthur’s duty as his Queen to protect him. He had no choice._

_“I don’t like lying to him is all,” Arthur muttered, staring down at the table._

_“I understand but for Alfred’s sake we must-”_

_“I know. I apologise for the interruption, please continue.”_

_Arthur urged for the meeting to proceed, cutting Yao off once more before he could dive head first into another lecture about saving Alfred. Arthur knew that the King was strong enough to take care of himself; he wouldn’t be in this meeting if he wasn’t certain of that. Alfred was strong, yes, but he was also human and no human was invincible – especially when an entire kingdom was out for their head._

_The Jack nodded to his Queen and then over to their Ace sat to Arthur’s left. Soft lavender eyes lingered on Arthur for a moment - Arthur could almost sense the concern - before he stood and turned to address the council men and knights sat around the table._

_“Battle is on the horizon. The Clubs are becoming desperate and therefore much more dangerous than we presumed beforehand. They could strike at any moment and we could all be left defenceless.”_

_“Aren’t our forces out there patrolling as we speak?” One of the knights asked, Arthur nodded in response before Matthew could._

_“Indeed they are and although that provides comfort for most that does not necessarily stop the Clubs. They will destroy anything and anyone placed in their path to get to Alfred and so we have to be prepared. We have to be ready,” The Queen explained to the knight who nodded in understanding, his eyes flickering back toward Matthew who he found far less intimidating than Arthur._

_“With this in mind we have already discussed a plan. One that can only be carried out by you Your Majesty.”_

_Almost immediately meadow green eyes looked up to Matthew, startled and confused by both the statement and the sudden formalities. Matthew was his brother-in-law just as much as he was his Ace; he admired the Ace’s courage and overwhelming need to protect his brother. They got along immensely well and Arthur had insisted that formalities were not needed unless in vital and formal situations. Matthew tended only to use them when he needed Arthur’s upmost attention or when other royals from the Four Kingdoms were visiting._

_As for a plan already being discussed? This was the first he had heard of such a thing. Arthur had created many a strategy in keeping Alfred safe at war and on the battle field but each one seemed to have a hole within it that would make it unsafe to use. To hear that a plan had been created behind_ his _back whilst they were supposedly creating another behind the King’s back was a considerable shock to the system. Just how far were his council willing to go on this endeavour?_

_“Excuse me?”_

_Matthew said no more, despite the intense look that Arthur was giving him that demanded an explanation. Instead he remained completely silent and turned his head down the table to where Alistair rose from his chair. Arthur gave him a warning glare that told him very clearly that he was in no mood for games yet Alistair didn’t back down – he ignored him completely, the look in his eye defiant._

_“A plan has been discussed thoroughly and at this time it is the only one we have. It is a plan that only you can perform.”_

_The Queen looked at his head knight with curious but worried eyes, not entirely certain he liked the sound of this plan. Alistair tried to give him a look of reassurance but Arthur wasn’t convinced, highly aware that now every member of the room was watching him and judging his reaction._

_“Your Majesty,” Yao spoke from the other end of the table, drawing Arthur’s eye down to him. “With your magical capabilities it is possible that should a situation turn south upon the battlefield you should be able to get King Alfred away from danger.”_

_Arthur sat in silence for a moment, staring at Yao as if the words he had spoken were an unknown dialect he didn’t understand. Matthew shifted uncomfortably at his side in the silence as Arthur leant his elbow on the arm rest of his chair and held his head in his, rubbing his forehead._

_“You- You want me to use magic? That’s your plan?”_

_“It is our only plan.”_

_Yao’s voice was grim and Arthur realised in that moment that they truly were out of options. Everything else they had thought about, all those nights Arthur had lain awake staring at Alfred’s peaceful face as he slept wondering just how he was going to keep him safe if battle were ever to arrive, had proven futile. With this, Arthur could see their logic. With this, Arthur could understand._

_Yet, only he could perform such a plan. There would be no help from anyone else within this room. No help would come from Yao, Matthew or his brothers for they couldn’t – magic was an area of expertise far out of their control. That was undeniably a lot of pressure that even he as a Queen wasn’t sure he was ready to take on. What if, on the off chance, he didn’t make it to Alfred in time to save him? Could he bare that responsibility of holding Alfred’s life in his own hands alone?_

_With this plan, he would have no choice. If it came down to it, Alfred’s life would be his to save and his to save alone._

_“Arthur,” Matthew started, green eyes blinking out his thoughts up to those soft and gentle lilac eyes. In that moment, Arthur swore he could see Alfred stood beside him in the smallest of seconds until Matthew pushed his glasses further up his nose and shattered the illusion that Arthur’s eyes had played upon him. “This plan is, as we say, a last resort for if the time comes where Alfred’s life is ever placed in harm’s way. However I have to give you warning, as both his twin brother and your brother-in-law. If you do this, he will undoubtedly hate you.”_

_Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed at such strong words as Matthew sat down in his chair once more so that Arthur was no longer looking up to him. The Ace faced him in his chair and spoke softly, his words clearly spoken so that Arthur would understand everything before he spoke any word of agreement to their plan. Deep down, Arthur knew that no matter what Matthew warned him of, there was no choice in the matter. He had to go through with this. Alfred’s life could not be jeopardised by his own feelings. He would never place himself and his own desires before the life of his own husband._

_“I know my brother. If he is in the middle of a fight, injured or not, battling Ivan or not, and you tear him away from that he will be nothing but rage. He’s strong minded, we both know that and he will come around eventually, he always does but I would rather he be angry at us all than die at the hands of someone like Ivan.”_

_Matthew almost looked teary but his gaze was stern, never straying from Arthur as he spoke. Arthur could understand; if this plan were to go through, if battle were to happen and Arthur was forced to take Alfred away – Matthew would be left behind._

_“Our King must live, no matter the cost.”_

_Yao’s voice sounded once again from the other end of the room and Arthur dropped his gaze to his lap where he was awkwardly running his hands together. He could hear the sadness in Yao’s voice already; he didn’t need to see his eyes. He knew what that meant. Arthur knew what both of them meant. If Arthur went through with this then Alfred would hate him for it; he would kick, he would scream and he would blame Arthur for everything yet the council were relying on him to keep their King safe from the icy grasp of the enemy._

_He couldn’t win. There was no outcome where he could keep Alfred safe and keep Alfred to himself. One way or another, he would lose Alfred._

_Swallowing thickly, Arthur nodded his head._

_After several arguments with Yao and multiple hushed disputes, he finally understood why all this was kept behind closed doors. If Alfred ever caught so much of a breeze that there was a plan in place where Arthur were to be the one to save him he would never agree to it. Not in a million years. He would fight back with every ounce of his energy and try to come up with another plan. Arthur would find that admirable however there were no other planes. They had exhausted all other options. If things really did go south on the battlefield and Alfred was put into harm’s way then Arthur would quickly move into action._

_He would be there and he would be the one to save his King. Yao, Matthew and Spades depended on it._

_“Alright. I’ll do it.”_

**XxXxXx**

“I should have told you after we left the castle but I was too caught up in my own frustration and hurt to see that keeping it from you was only causing you more harm. That was… beyond selfish of me…” Arthur sighed, his voice drifting off into endless silence that felt like a stab of pure agony.

Alfred just there, staring at the flower bush ahead of them without a word or thought to share. Birdsong twittered from the branches hanging above them as if nothing had changed but Arthur could feel that so much was changing in such a small space of time. He had finally told Alfred the thing that he had wanted to know – the thing that he had kept secret for months. It wasn’t much and, to Arthur at least, it felt irrelevant but for Alfred it appeared to be so much more than just a story. To Alfred this was the part of his castle that he had neither seen nor heard when he was the one who saw everything.

Arthur supposed that hearing your husband had been consulting with your council, your brother and your advisor all behind the secrecy of closed doors within the walls of your own castle was a lot to take in.

Eventually, after a couple of minutes of plain staring, Alfred made a movement but it was only little. He removed his hand from Arthur’s. The Queen couldn’t help but be disappointed; assuming that Alfred would get up and leave the gardens even after their apologies had already been spoken however Alfred didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled Arthur’s hand into his lap and played with his fingers, specifically his ring finger. Then, and only then, did Arthur realise that Alfred was toying with where his wedding band was supposed to be.

“I wish we’d never taken them off - the wedding rings. At least then I could show you what they mean,” Alfred exhaled, rubbing his thumb across the area of skin where Arthur’s wedding ring should have been sitting proud.

“I know what they mean.”

“Clearly you don’t.” The look which Alfred gave him was solid and firm, softening after a few seconds as his shoulders relaxed. “Arthur if you’d have told me, if anyone would have told me, I could have made it easier for you. I’d have distracted Ivan in the throne room for you or something. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have that cut on your back.”

“Alfred, darling, that’s cute but you would have argued like an infant and you know it,” Arthur smiled at his husbands words and used his other hands to cover Alfred’s, sandwiching it between his own two hands. The King pouted ever so slightly but didn’t deny the accusation. Arthur knew that he couldn’t even if he wanted to. As much as he wanted to believe that Alfred would have been on board with such an idea he knew Alfred too well. He would have argued until his lungs collapsed that he could handle himself and that such plans needn’t focus primarily on him.

“You didn’t want to do it did you?” Alfred asked after a moment’s hesitation, eyes dropping once against to his boots pressed against the gravel. Arthur patted his hand as he watched a pair of butterflies dance across the gardens, twisting and twirling in an unspoken dance.

“At first I didn’t think that lying to your face was the best idea no but then I slowly came to realised it was the only option we had. Desperate times call for desperate measures and I won’t lose you to Ivan Alfred. Plus, you know what they say about these things…” Arthur trailed off, letting his sentence linger in the air.

Alfred turned to him with a slight crease in his brown, not understanding what was being hinted at. Arthur rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder lightly, a small smile on his lips and his eyes full of love and genuine happiness for the first time since they had left the palace. This time he refused to beat around the bush with Alfred. He wouldn’t play coy, lie or be the usual, uptight, lip-sealed man that he chose to be every single day of his life.

“People do crazy things when they’re in love.”

“Putting themselves in a ridiculous amount of danger for the sake of someone else counts now does it?” Alfred quirked an eyebrow and Arthur couldn’t help but tear his hand from Alfred’s just to slap his shoulder violently with a scowl for running his moment. Alfred only laughed at him before grabbing him and pulling him forward, his arms wrapped around Arthur in a tight embrace. Arthur melted instantly into the hold and gripped onto his husband so tightly that his fingers hurt.

He could feel Alfred’s nose pressed against his neck, his breath warm and unsteady on his skin, he could feel the rim of his glasses digging into his jaw but in that single moment Arthur didn’t care. He held onto Alfred as close as he possibly could, pressing those glasses further into his skin and running his fingers through the hair at the base of Alfred’s neck just because he could.

His vision blurred with a sudden onslaught of tears and he couldn’t tell if it was his own or Alfred’s body that trembled. Perhaps it was both. All he knew was that he shivered when Alfred pressed his lips ever so gently against his neck, shifting slightly as he did it again and again before Alfred pressed another, harder kiss to the side of his head as if his neck simply weren’t enough.

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur whispered into his ear before Alfred sat back, eyes running all over him before his fingers came up to gently cup his chin, his thumb running across the lower half of Arthur’s cheek and catching a stray tear. Arthur leant in slightly to Alfred’s touch, stomach twisting into knots of concern when he realised that a few tears had begun to stream down Alfred’s face.

“No more lies?” Alfred voice was quiet, his breath hot against Arthur’s face as he slowly drew closer. Arthur’s heart thudded against his ribs in a desperate plea to escape, his eyes lost in those swirls of wondrous blue that were so close to him.

Alfred was going to kiss him but, as much as Arthur wanted to pin Alfred to the bench and kiss him until the sun set, he wiggled his hand between them to press his finger against Alfred’s lips, stopping him. The younger looked surprised, eyes widened slightly before settling into a small frown.

“No more lies unless I have to save your great arse again. Then I reserve the right to lie. What if I'm planning a surprise birthday party? Does that count as lying too? How about if Matthew tells me a secret and tells me not to tell you? Is that also a lie?” Arthur rambled on and on, Alfred raising an eyebrow until the Queen stopped his aimless talking with his mouth left open in a silent ‘oh’. Alfred smiled behind his finger, gently lowering it with his own and chuckling as Arthur’s eyes followed it downward as it disappeared.

For reasons unknown, he was nervous about kissing his own husband.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“Hm, can I think about it?”

“ _Arthur_.”

Arthur grinned playfully, even more so when Alfred’s hand came to rest upon his thigh and rub small circles with his thumb sending small jolts thought him. It took all but three seconds for Arthur to throw himself from his seat on the bench into Alfred’s arms. Granted, he almost head butted his husband in doing so, the King grunting at the force, but quickly found his arms snaking around his neck as he pressed his lips against Alfred’s. Their bodies moulded together as close as they could possibly get on the bench and Arthur hummed at the sweet contact he had missed so much, not minding one bit that Alfred’s glasses were once against practically jabbing him in the eye.

Alfred’s hands roamed his back, wary of his wound and holding onto him as if letting go would mean Arthur would be lost forever. Arthur had never felt so loved. His heart was singing and with every taste of Alfred’s breath it felt as if new life was being breathed into him. Arthur had never felt anything like it before.

Pulling away, Arthur sat back on his haunches upon the bench. Alfred looked dazed; his glasses askew, cheeks flushed and golden hair messy from Arthur’s fingers but his eyes shimmered with a happiness that Arthur hadn’t seen in months and that alone had Arthur’s stomach twirling never mind the mind-blowing kiss.

After a moment of staring, Alfred adjusted his glasses and Arthur returned to sitting on the bench like a true Queen, brushing down his clothing and clearing his throat as if he hadn’t just thrown himself all over his King in the middle of the Heart Gardens. Anyone could have seen them and in all honesty Arthur wasn’t all that certain that his fellow Queen had left the gardens at all. For all he knew he could be lurking just to make sure that everything went smoothly between them both. Arthur was positive Kiku was in on something.

“We’re going to get Ivan,” Alfred started, placing his hand on Arthur’s knee as Arthur rested his head on Alfred’s shoulder. It fit perfectly and Alfred automatically leant his own head atop Arthur’s, pressing a kiss to his hair also as if they had never been arguing and not speaking only mere hours ago. “I’m going to make things right. We’re going home Arthur. Our foundations aren’t broken anymore. In fact, I think they’re stronger than ever.”

“Foundations? Whatever are you talking about?” Arthur questioned with a confused frown, looking up to Alfred’s face but he did nothing but smile as if it were some hidden joke. He shook his head and stroked Arthur’s side affectionately, saying nothing more. The Queen remained confused but didn’t press further, instead nestling further into Alfred and closing in his eyes as he listed to the birdsong.

After several long and painful days of travelling in silence, having petty arguments and having much bigger, unknown emotions looming over them, Arthur finally felt normal. He felt like they were together at last. They had travelled side by side as two separate people, strangers to one another, forced to co-operated by the nature of their quest but now Arthur could feel the wind on his face, could hear the baby birds in the trees above him and he could hear the content rhythm of Alfred’s heart.

They were finally together as one. Not only as King and Queen but as husbands. Finally, they could move on and focus. Arthur was more than ready to aid Alfred in putting Ivan back in his rightful place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hurray! Together at last! I had so much fun writing this chapter and giving the pair the moment that they deserved. Alfred and Arthur have officially moved past rock bottom and are slowly making their ascent back to happy. It turns out that, for this particular story, 13 is a lucky number after all. 
> 
> Once again, I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone that reads this story, likes it and comments on it. I can’t put into words how delighted it makes me knowing that others like this story as much as I do.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

He refused to go crazy. He would not be reduced to nothing but a mere shell of his once powerful self before he had even had the chance to tear out Alfred’s throat with his bare hands. A castle couldn’t possibly have the power to send a man mad. It wasn’t possible for stone walls to infect the brain with such poisonous hallucinations. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - be the man to ruin his own ingenious plans.

Sick of waiting. Sick of planning. Sick of nothing.

Ivan could barely sleep at night, visions of Alfred crawling into his dreams like a monster to disturb him even there when his eyes were closed. Everywhere he looked the young king was waiting, lurking in the shadows or following down the corridors. Elizaveta didn’t see him, she hadn’t since his first appearance in the throne room. No one saw him but Ivan. He just stood there grinning, watching… mocking his failures.

No more.

Marching down to the dungeons, Ivan would sit back and wait for Alfred to move no longer. Searching for him was proving nothing more than a waste of his energy; the Spade Royals had proven themselves in their capable hiding abilities – cowards. Ivan knew now that they had to be harbouring shelter in one of the two other kingdoms.

Which one exactly he couldn’t determine, that all depended just how far the two cowards were willing to run. Trying to figure out which kingdom they were taking shelter in would take far too long and Ivan was tired of wasting time. This plan was much quicker and would prove far more effective.

Alfred’s emotions, after all, were his greatest weakness.

A King needed a heart of stone to rule and Alfred seemed to lack that ability. He ruled with his heart far too often.

The dungeons stirred as he descended the stairs, his coat fluttering out and trailing on the steps behind him as the guards clumsily bowed at the waist at the bottom. He ignored them and signalled for them to move out his way before he pushed them. They moved instantly. A man on a mission, he marched straight to Yao and Matthew’s cell and demanded it be unlocked immediately in a gruff voice.

The guard outside the door startled and fumbled with the key attached to his belt, his shaky hands making things extremely difficult as he forced the key toward the lock, missing several times but Ivan found it no trouble. Yao and Matthew’s faces of poorly hidden concern were more than enough to keep him entertained.

Yao was stood in the corner of the small cell as if he had been trying to look out the ever so tiny barred window far above his head that he could never have reached even on his tiptoes whilst Matthew was perched on the edge of the bed, bandaged and looking worse for wear. His eyes narrowed instantly at Ivan’s presence whereas Yao looked wary, Ivan smirking at the young Ace as he remembered the pleasure it brought him to leave each and every bloodied mark still strewn across his skin.

With a loud ‘ _clink_ ’ echoing throughout the eerily still dungeon, the cell door opened and the bars that separated the Spade Royals from the Club King were removed. Yao stiffened as if ice had been injected into his veins, his throat bobbing as Ivan took a single stride into the cell, his eyes fixated on only Matthew as the Ace rose to his feet with shaky legs.

“Hello Matthew,” Ivan smirked, violet eyes snapping over to Yao when he shifted to try and close the gap between him and Matthew. It was hardly worth the effort; before Yao could so much as lift a finger, Ivan grabbed the front of Matthew’s shirt and dragged him out the cell, shutting the cell door behind him just as Yao reached them so that his body slammed into the iron bars with a loud thud. Ivan thought that perhaps such an impact would have winded him, but Yao forced his arms through the gaps between the bars and desperately tried to reach, scratching for both Ivan and Matthew in his desperation.

“Ivan no! You said you wouldn’t hurt him anymore!” Yao yelled, pulling his arms back to grip at the bars so tight his fingers turned white. Matthew struggled in his grasp but Ivan only gave him a small grin before restraining him with magic. It took hardly anything at all, the blond practically going limp in his hold with only the smallest amount of magic wrapped around his limbs. The Ace was still weak from their little ‘chat’ it seemed.

“Please! Ivan I will beg if I have to! Leave him!

Ivan almost considered his offer. Watching Yao beg on his knees for Matthew’s life would be quite the show but Ivan had other plans for Matthew’s life. It was rather valuable after all. He couldn’t just throw it around all willy-nilly. Turning to from Yao he nodded to one of the guards outside another cell with three very similar scowling faces inside.

“I want the redhead,” He told them, eyes glancing over Alistair whilst he continued to address his guards so that the knight knew he too was being indirectly spoken too. “Make sure he comes quietly. Poor Matthew here has suffered enough already at the hands of his friends.”

Yao whimpered at that, just as he had wanted as he hauled Matthew from the dungeons by the back of his shirt. Once they were at the top of the stairs and a little way down the corridor he released his magic on the Ace and Matthew instantly began to fight, slapping his hands back at Ivan’s until he was let go and allowed to stand of his own accord.

The Spade Ace looked tired, ragged of breath and low of energy. Clearly, he was in much need of rest but it made the game all that more interesting. His wounds were healing but not fully healed. It was curious that he wanted to fight so much despite the pain.

“You are incredibly stupid if you think you can fight me.”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Matthew said defiantly, his voice much stronger than he looked physically. His lilac eyes were remarkably fired up and bright behind the frames of his glasses for someone who looked, well, beaten. “I will walk myself or are you scared that a lowly Ace will overpower a crazy King such as yourself?” Matthew smirked, cocking his head to one side with a brave amount of confidence as if he knew what was really going on in Ivan’s head. Ivan found it a funny choice of words. If he didn’t need Matthew he would have killed him for it.

Forcing a friendly smile that was sickly sweet, he extended his hand out in front of him.

“Please, stretch your legs. It might be the last time you use them.”

“Thank you.”

Matthew ignored his threat, turning his back on him and holding his head high as he walked ahead. Ivan scowled at his back, almost wishing he could throw daggers at it. He hated this unusual arrogant confidence that Matthew had adjourned. Matthew didn’t fight. He especially didn’t fight with Kings. He wasn’t a fighter and he never had been. In all the years he had known Alfred and his brother, Matthew was the one that sat in the back with a book and ran in the opposite direction of conflict. He supposed, however, that if Matthew was going to fight for anyone that anyone would be Alfred.

The walk to the throne room was quick. He stood at the front of the room, at the bottom of the steps up to the three Spades thrones with Matthew knelt on his knees in silence at his side. He didn’t argue much about the act - a vague threat about Yao was enough to make him shut up and kneel.

Shortly after, Alistair was brought into the room. He’d never considered Alistair all that much. The head knight was often busy with other bachelors or bachelorettes when he came to visit at balls – Ivan had high suspicious that Alistair just preferred to avoid him when possible, keeping a close watch from afar.

The minute he walked in, Alistair’s guard shot up around him and Ivan could feel it like a punch to the face. He strode in with his hands cuffed behind his back and his eyes narrowed on Ivan as if he were the only man in the room, hardly giving Matthew a side glance as if he just didn’t care.

Ivan knew this game. He liked this game. Arthur played it regularly - pretending not to care about those that he really did. It was a fun game to twist. The Club solider stopped Alistair directly in front of Ivan before taking his leave, closing the throne room doors behind him and leaving Alistair and Matthew in Ivan’s hands. Matthew’s head hung low at Ivan’s knee already.

“Alistair Kirkland. How long it has been. You’re the eldest brother of the Queen if I recall, yes?”

“Skip the formalities.”

Ivan quirked an eyebrow as he silently clasped his hands behind his back. It seemed his prisoners still had some fighting spirit. How delightful. Rocking back and forth on his heels with a childish grin, Ivan cocked his head to one side ever so slightly as if he were about to as Alistair to play a game of eye spy with him. A twitch of Alistair’s left eye told the Club King immediately that the attitude grinded on him.

“Straight to the point, I like it. I want you to call your little brother for me,” Ivan stated matter of fact. Alistair looked confused, the emotion so clear across his face it might as well have been written there as his eyes dropped down to Matthew whose head had lifted at the order. He too looked a little bewildered.

“I don’t understand? I can’t. I don’t know where he is.”

Ivan hummed and wanted nothing more than to take the moment and twist it into something dramatic. He could have stridden across the room, his coat wiping out behind him as he whispered into Alistair’s ear exactly what he wanted him to do but he didn’t have time for the enjoyment of his much-wanted dramatics nor did he want to leave Matthew sitting on the floor without his presence. Matthew had become a source of unpredictability he hadn’t accounted for. For all Ivan knew, Matthew could happily stand and race for the door. He could just as easily try to fight for freedom.

“I suggest you listen closer Mr Kirkland.” The way Alistair repressed a shuddered, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly as he tried to hold it back, brought a smirk to the Club King’s lips. Oh, how wonderful. Alistair really did hate those formalities when they came from him. “I said your _little_ brother.”

Mossy green eyes widened almost instantly, his face contorting into something Ivan could only source as utter dread before it was gone and his face returned to a neutral stance once more. His slightly chapped lips were pressed into a firm line, eyebrows drawn close in scowl and his eyes had almost darkened at the mere mention of Ivan’s words as he did nothing but shake his head once.

Out the corner of his eye, Ivan noticed Matthew look up to him with far less controlled emotions. He could feel the hatred burning beside his knee yet Matthew said nothing, remaining still.

“I don’t recall Arthur being your youngest brother. I am correct, aren’t I?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Alistair’s voice lacked bite as it came through gritted teeth, warning the Club King.

How cute. Spades appeared like a wall of concrete from the outside; powerful and towering tall alongside the Four Kingdoms determined to make its mark and yet on the inside it was controlled by nothing but weak and vulnerable people. People that could be manipulated by the right twist of their arm. They were easy prey once inside. Alfred would become just as easy once Ivan had his hands around him.

“You will call your youngest brother to this throne room for me or I will make sure that upon Arthur’s return he suffers a fate far worse than death. The choice is yours.”

“I won’t do shit for you!” Alistair hissed, struggling against his bounds but not daring to take a step forward. His glare was murderous but it was met only by a poisonous smile as Ivan called for a guard. The guard shuffled into the room immediately and Matthew couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of Ivan’s voice, his shoulders falling forward as he watched Alistair stare wide eyed at the guard.

“Your Majesty?” He bowed graciously but Ivan’s eyes never left the red head before him, a wicked grin plastered across his face. He wanted to make him suffer until he gave in to his plan. Time was of the essence. He didn’t have time for another. He needed Alistair to break. Luckily for him, Alistair was man of many weaknesses. One would think his parents would have learnt to have a smaller family.

“Bring me the blond one. Dylan was it? Perhaps we can have a similar chat to dear Matthew here.” Ivan nudged Matthew’s shoulder with his leg, ignoring the grunt of protest in favour of Alistair’s horrified expression as the crumbling realisation of his decision was brought upon his shoulders; one brother for another.

The guard nodded and began to take his leave however he had barely taken two steps before Alistair cried out for him to stop, green eyes aflame with hatred. If looks alone were enough to kill, Ivan would have been dead for certain but instead he felt warm and fuzzy knowing that he had made yet another member of the Spade family suffer; even if it was just a little bit. After all, this was Alfred’s doing. If he had stayed behind and faced him like a man, his friends wouldn’t have had to suffer.

“I’ll do it!”

“Good!” Ivan clapped his hands cheerfully and dismissed the guard, tasking him instead with finding his Queen. She would be valuable in the next stage of his plan and he could not complete it without her. Her willingness to agree, however, was not guaranteed. “Now call him.”

“Alistair don’t…” Matthew warned, groaning when Ivan kicked him hard. He was beginning to wear thing on Ivan’s patience.

Alistair spared him a sorry glance but Ivan knew his plan was already in motion. He could feel the electricity spiking in the air before Alistair had even closed his eyes, lowering his head so that his chin rested upon his chest. The smirk on Ivan’s lips was one of victory.

“Peter? Can you hear me? I need to speak with you.” Alistair’s voice was feather light that Ivan could barely hear it over the cracking sound of static in his ears, Matthew shuffling anxiously in his chains beside him. The noise made him acknowledge the Ace enough to see Matthew was already awaiting his gaze.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” He said with the shake of his head and his voice low, eyes hateful and almost fearful.

Matthew didn’t hold his line of sight for much longer, turning back to Alistair who was now glancing around the room and simply waiting. His shoulders were tense and his jaw clenched as he tried to hide his fear but it was in vain for Ivan could feel it rolling of the man in ripples.

The mere mention of Alistair’s much younger and final brother had instilled terror into his chest just as Ivan had planned, threatening another member of his family on top of that had only ensured that it remained there.

Grinning at Matthew’s shuddering shoulders, the Club King returned his attention back to the head knight just as a small child appeared into the room in a cloud of thick, black smoke. Electricity sparked within the dark cloud, crackling with warning that only made Ivan all the more pleased. Within seconds of the boy’s feet touching the ground the smoke thinned, disappearing into nothing along with the sounds of static and electricity that had buzzed in his ears.

This was all going so perfect; the boy had even appeared exactly where Ivan had predicted with his back wide open to him. He was unaware to his surroundings, unaware to the dangerous that lurked beyond the image of his older brother tied in chains in front of him. He was completely clueless to the Club King looming behind him wielding his long staff.

“Young Matthew, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

**XxXxXx**

Ever since Ivan had requested she search the castle, tear it apart one brick at a time in their search, Elizaveta found that there was one place in particular she made return visits too: the gallery. She had never intended for it to become such a habit, never intended to step foot within the place every again upon searching it with her guards, however she couldn’t help but flee to it in times of thinking, locking herself away within it’s quiet walls and pacing under the watchful eyes of one particularly stricken portrait.

Alfred and Arthur’s portrait.

They had been painted to perfection. Alfred was stood tall, his grin wide and happy with the King’s Crown painted intricately with shining jewels as if it were the real thing sat atop his golden hair. Arthur was nestled in beside him, his smile smaller but no less joyful and his eyes painted the perfect shade of green that almost jumped from the canvas. His hand was held in Alfred’s with the Queen’s crown pressed into his hair and Elizaveta couldn’t help but swallow thickly under their gazes.

She could see a happiness that she couldn’t see in her own portrait. She had seen how these two individuals lived as she tore apart their home section by section, ransacking it for information. She had seen Alfred’s spare pair of glasses resting on the dressing table in their chambers, Arthur’s books lining the bookcases and scattered all over the castle, pillows neatly fluffed on the bed, portraits of Alfred’s ancestors hanging around her and the way that Arthur and his brothers had been carefully added into that line of monarchy.

Her eyes almost welled with tears as she pulled something from her pocket, slowly opening her palm and looking down to see two silver bands resting in the centre of her hand. They were wedding bands. The same ones Alfred and Arthur were wearing within the painting. She had found them in a small box hidden away in their chambers the very first day they arrived here.

They had been tucked away within the wall along with the Spade Queen’s journal. Elizaveta didn’t have the heart to hand them over to Ivan. She couldn’t let his tainted hands touch something as pure as their wedding bands. Even she was unsure if she should touch them. Along with the journal, she had kept them hidden.

She almost dropped the bands when a guard stormed through the doors into the silent gallery, urgently stuffing the rings back into the safety of her pocket where she had kept them safe from the very beginning. He didn’t notice, striding toward her and bowing before delivering what appeared to be an important message.

“His Majesty has sent me to summon you to the throne room.”

She wasted no time in nodding and following his lead toward the aforementioned room, walking briskly to keep up with the guard who made it apparent in his rush movements that there was a rush to get there. Although confused, she never questioned it. She had no knowledge that her King was busy making plans of attack. Perhaps news of Alfred had come through and she had been too busy to hear of it?

The minute she got to the throne room she was surprised when the guard stopped in his tracks and left her too it, allowing her to proceed on her own as he remained behind, almost quivering at the door. She eyed him quietly, suspicious of the odd behaviour, but entered the room as she had been directed.

Instantly she could feel just how cold the room was. This was a normal occurrence when it came to her King; Ivan had the power to make any room cool over just with his eyes however this was something different, she could feel it.

She didn’t expect to see the mayhem that she saw.

Her King was stood at the head of the room, tall and proud as if he hadn’t spent the past week running from shadows and screaming at blank walls like some crazed man. Matthew was knelt on the ground beside his legs and Alistair in the centre of the room, his shoulders shaking. His back was to the Club Queen and she could only presume he was crying, a sight Elizaveta knew was rare.

In front of Ivan, with that horrid staff held across him and his back firmly pressed against her King’s body was a small, terrified child. He was dressed head to toe in black apart from the red shirt beneath his black jacket. The jacket was littered with markings upon the sleeves and around the trim in red, standing out against the back and around the boy’s neck was a red neck scarf, pulled loose and almost falling free as it revealed his neck. His dusty blond hair was ruffled all over, clearly from some struggle, and his bright blue eyes were streaming with tears as he whimpered and whined – eyes fixed solely on Alistair in front of him.

The clothing alone was enough for Elizaveta to know who he was. Her lunch was awfully close to making a second appearance.

“My Queen, welcome.”

Ivan’s voice was like ice crawling across her skin and she wondered into the room, coming to a stop just beside Alistair. Out the corner of her eye she could see that he was indeed fighting back tears, whether they were tears of fury or of hate she was unable to tell. Anyone could see simply from looking that the only reason those tears had yet to fall was because Alistair was staying strong for the child shaking like a wilting leaf in front of them.

“What are you doing?” Elizaveta asked with a confused frown, eyeing the child before her gaze lifted to Ivan. The corners of his lips twitched as he patted the boy’s shoulder, making him cry out and Alistair instantly struggle against his chains. Elizaveta could have sworn she heard a low growl come from her side.

“Alfred has hidden in the shadows for too long. Today, we make him move.”

She didn’t understand his plan from the little in front of her but she didn’t believe it to be a good one. Without her consultation, Ivan had been free to concoct this plan all on his own and in his unstable condition Elizaveta didn’t want to know the thoughts that passed through his mind. Lowering her gaze, she tried to piece together Matthew’s involvement but he appeared just as puzzled as she did as he sat discarded at her King’s feet. If she didn’t know any better, she was beginning to think that Ivan was beginning to grow a new addiction to Matthew simply because he couldn’t have Alfred. Almost like the young Ace was his pet.

“Do you recall your younger years My Queen?” Ivan asked suddenly and Elizaveta was struck with the thought that perhaps her leader really had gone mad. As if to prove it, his eyes darted off behind her, narrowing as if he had seen something lurking within the back off the throne room but she daren’t turn around. The fear of being punished for staring at something that she knew, ultimately, wasn’t there was far greater than her curiosity.

“I do.”

After a moment’s hesitation where Ivan continued to stare behind her, his eyes finally returned to her and their conversation. Elizaveta counted Alistair lucky that he had been ignored, his gaze still lingering on the blank wall at the far end of the throne room where Ivan had been staring.

“Good. Then I suggest you call upon a certain member of your past. I presume that he will listen to you. You were, after all, good friends I heard.”

Her body went rigid. Like cement coursed through her veins instead of blood and had forced her into permanent stature. Ivan’s voice was stern, like a father talking down to his child and explaining a highly important task. She knew _exactly_ what he was asking of her. As did Matthew who was staring at her from the floor with widened eyes, silently pleading for her to do anything but what she had been asked.

“Something the matter?”

“I won’t.”

She shook her head and stuck out her chin, planting her feet firmly on the ground in defiance. Ivan’s eyes twitched with annoyance before his grip upon his staff tightened, pulling it closer to his body as if he intended to crush the child’s bones against his own larger body. The child whimpered, biting his lip, and Alistair cast a dark glare in her direction.

“Do you know what happens when you kill a Joker? The cosmic balance of this world would be thrown off. I need a Joker, a stronger Joker, in order to get my message to the seemingly elusive brat these people call their King. This,” He shook the child roughly. “Is my bargaining chip. Unless you want the cosmic balance of the world thrown upside down and our Four Kingdoms tossed into peril where millions and millions of innocent men, women and children will die then… that makes you just as dark as me my dear. Their blood will be smeared across your hands Elizaveta.”

The sound of her name upon his lips sent shivers throughout her entire body, her skin crawling with the threat. She hesitated. The child, Peter she believed his name to be, was crying, begging and pleading for his life. It wasn’t until she heard him whisper Arthur’s name in true desperation that she felt the painful sting of guilt tear through her heart. His wedding band felt like led in her pocket.

“He is only a child!” She protested and although she believed all maternal instincts within her had died many winters ago, the need to yank that boy free from Ivan and coddle him in her arms where he would be safe and unharmed trampled through every other reasonable thought.

He was a Joker but before he was a Joker he was a child.

Ivan did not heed her words, as if expecting such from her he pulled a dagger from the inside of his coat pocket. The sight had her stomach rolling in loops as if she had been pushed down a steep hill. With surprising care, he dragged the dagger over Peter’s cheek, a teardrop rolling over the silver blade. She swallowed thickly, eyebrows drawn thick as Ivan’s eyes watched her for a reaction, judging her every movement.

His staff vanished from his other hand with a single blink of her eye and Peter instantly attempted to run, to be free, but an icy hand on his shoulder held him in place; the dagger was swift to follow, pressing against his small throat and daring him to move, to breathe, in a way that Ivan did not like.

“Alistair!” He cried out, his brother and his only hope jostling in his chains. Alistair attempted to move forward however the instant his leg so much as twitched it buckled beneath him and he tumbled to the ground. He hit the floor with his chest, only just managing to keep his head up as he grunted at the impact and Elizaveta instantly dove down to help him to his knees. She whispered for him to stay down, for his own safety, but all he did was glare at her and roughly shove her away as if her touch burnt at him through the fabric of his clothing.

She recoiled, stumbling back to her feet at the look of hatred Alistair burnt into her soul – a look she had only ever seen given to the likes of Ivan. She was not so bad as to be given the same looks, was she? She did not deserve such looks of burning emotion. Or did she? Was she, too, not the reason he was on his knees before another King in the sanctuary of his own castle?

The Club Queen felt hot tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Her throat was dry and her thoughts scrambled, ears bleeding from the sound of a child in need. Several times she had seen Ivan do grave things but never had he gone so far as to punish a child in her presence.

Torn between a difficult decision, Elizaveta couldn’t differentiate right from wrong.

This child was a Joker. An unbelievably powerful force and vital component within their world – the Four Kingdoms could not function without he or his brothers. He was still on the path of learning who he was and what he was, how to use that power stored inside of him and why. At this moment in his life, he didn’t know the half of it.

He was young, innocent and naïve. If Ivan killed him, even at this age, their world would be thrown into unleashed chaos that could never be contained. Evils beyond imagination would consume them and eventually they would tear themselves apart until nothing but blood and ruins were left standing. Jokers kept them balanced. They were the wrong to everything that was right.

However, if she did as King Ivan asked of her she would be drawing yet another Joker out of the shadows. An older Joker; a stronger Joker. She would be forcing him into a situation she would wish upon no one. He would have to comply with Ivan’s wishes in order to keep his fellow Joker’s life – in order to save the life of Arthur’s little brother. Trusting a Joker’s magic was dangerous and highly unreliable, Ivan was insane for simply considering such an idea never mind actually running with it.

A blood curdling scream echoed through the throne room, disrupting her desperate thought debating, and Elizaveta was met with Alistair’s green eyes wide and pleading at her knee. He looked up to her through fiery red hair, lashes damp and eyes glossy with tears he was struggling to contain. His voice cracked upon words she didn’t hear and her gaze drifted from him to the others, noting the small droplets of blood smearing across the silver blade held at Peter’s throat, the metal glimmering in the sunlight as Ivan moved it across his skin.

Alistair’s voice barely came close to her ears, replaced only by the sound of Peter’s screaming and crying along with Ivan’s childish laughter, too happy and pleased with his actions that Elizaveta’s skin grew warm with anger. Matthew was hunched upon floor still, curled in on himself, and if Elizaveta knew him at all she could picture that had his arms not been bound they would have been pressed against his ears to block out the torment.

Taking a single, steadying breath, she tilted her head back and focused on the high ceiling. She couldn’t tell if she would come to regret this decision but she could let Peter suffer no longer. She had the chance to win his freedom and she would take it. The repercussions she could deal with but the murder of an innocent child and a Joker no less would not be on her hands this day.

“Gilbert.” Her voice was weak, trembling with fear and she hoped that if anything that would make him come to her aid faster. “You need to come quickly… I…” Normally a remark would roll easily off her tongue, something funny or an insult of sorts to lure him down to her – an old habit that had continued from their younger days when they had been friends. Before the days when royalties had become a large part of their lives. Before she had been married off to a lunatic.

It took a few seconds but she could feel the static crackling in her hair; Ivan’s head lifting and looking over to her when black smoke gathered around her ankles, swirling upwards in front of her just as a man appeared with it. Lightening flickered around him, flashing in the darkness before it thinned, vanishing into the unknown, before the man stepped out and gripped her arms tightly.

To most, he was known only as the White Demon but to her he was, and would always be, Gilbert. A dear friend whom had grown up at her side and been with her throughout her childhood until their destinies had forced them apart.

His face was a picture of worry, crimson red eyes scanning her up and down, repeating once more before finally come to rest on her eyes. Elizaveta concluded that he looked well; his pale skin and frosty white hair clean and well maintained. He didn’t appear to have injuries like the last time she had seen him – training he had said but Elizaveta had not been convinced.

“Are you hurt? Did that bastard touch you?” He asked gently, cupping her chin to observe her face from better angles. She went to bat his hands away but found she didn’t need to, his hands falling of his own doing when he realised that the tapestries upon the walls behind her were not green and presenting the crest of Clubs like they should. Instead they were blue, the Spade emblem sewn proudly within them.

When Peter’s low whimpering broke through the sudden silence of the room, he turned his back on her, shielding her behind his body instinctively and surveying the scene that he had been called into.

“Gil!” Peter cried, Gilbert flinching only an inch at the sound of his name as his eyes narrowed in on Ivan holding the dagger to his prodigy’s throat. Peter’s blue eyes were locked onto the familiar face that had suddenly appeared in front of him, hopeful and bright. Elizaveta could see the way Peter was staring at Gilbert like he was his rescuer already and yet Gilbert hardly batted an eyelid in his direction, eyes never lowering from Ivan stood behind. The Club King’s stance had stiffed since Gil’s arrival; he was stood taller, his back straight as if to try assert his dominance. Did Elizaveta sense some uncertainty from her King?

“Well done My Queen. I knew you would reconsider.”

She could tell Ivan was mocking her, his eyes finding hers as she peered over Gilbert’s shoulder. The Joker growled. The last thing she wanted was to hide behind Gilbert, to be seen hiding behind a Joker when they were unworthy of trust and companionship. However, she felt safe with Gilbert – far safer than she had ever felt with Ivan. Gilbert had instincts to protect her that went beyond his job as a Joker keeping the balance all the way back to when they were young children. She too, had the same gut instincts.

“Listen well White Demon. I have a message that needs to reach King Alfred of Spades. I know not his location nor do I care anymore. You will get my message to him if you want the cosmic balance of our world to remain intact. You do value the lives of your youngers, don’t you?” Ivan taunted, pulling on Peter’s hair to reveal more of his throat.

Alistair yelled for him to stop but his body was of no help to him, held in place by invisible restraints. Elizaveta had seen Ivan use magic as a form of restraint before but Alistair was fighting, she could see it clean on his face and yet Ivan showed no sign of weakening. It had her deeply concerned.

Gilbert bore his sharpened teeth toward the Club King in warning, Ivan grinning at the response and pressing the blade harder against Peter’s skin. More blood oozed from the wound and Peter screamed once more, Elizaveta jumping at the shrill noise and gripping onto Gilbert’s arm tightly. He flinched and she could only just see his strained face, watching the boy he was training being tortured before his very eyes.

When the screaming continued and Gilbert did nothing, Elizaveta pushed him aside and stepped forward.

“Stop! Stop it!” She screeched, pulling at her own hair in uncontrollable desperation. She was surprised when Ivan’s hand halted in its movements and drew back. The blade was withdrawn from Peter’s throat slightly, lavender eyes frowning at her as he stared at her. Only when she felt her hand brush against her cheek did she realise that she was crying. “He is a boy! A child! Leave him alone! Gilbert!”

She reeled around on her heel, vision blurring slightly with the onslaught of tears she refused to shed more violently as Gilbert lingered in the shadows. He took another glance at her face as if she were painful to look at, his eyes darting all over her, before he strode to her side and nodded once at Ivan.

“I will do as you ask.”

The Queen felt like being sick.

“You will release him and vow never to lay a finger on him again. Do so and I will make you wish for death. I can send your message however I can’t tell you where Alfred is in the Four Kingdoms.”

Gilbert’s voice was dark and hollow. It sent a shudder down Elizaveta’s spine as she watched him stand up to her King, her shoulders shaking with anticipation until Ivan threw Peter down the stairs away from him as if he were nothing but worthless scraps.

He landed with a thud on his knees, his arms catching him but he didn’t seem to care, crawling across the stone immediately to his brother where Ivan’s magic had released him also. Alistair frowned deeply, a crease forming between his brows as he tried to hold in the tears, as Peter’s arms wound around him. Peter clung to him tightly, crying hysterically into his shirt and smearing it with tears and blood. With his arms bound behind his back, Alistair could do nothing but rest his head against Peter’s until Gilbert gave a small wave of his hand and the shackles fell free.

Ivan’s glare was met only with a stern glance.

“Time with his brother is well deserved. He is under my guard and if you wish for me to carry out your plans you will allow him such time.”

The sentiment made Elizaveta smile softly as she tore away some of the fabric from her shirt, slowly approaching Alistair who had his arms protectively around Peter. He eyed her as she crouched down close to them but she made no other movement other than holding out the cloth to him and nodding toward Peter, the boy cowering away from her in fear that she too was going to harm him. Those blue eyes were fixed on the Club emblem proudly displayed on her chest.

It hurt deeply to see the fear embedded in his eyes but Alistair took the fabric and ever so carefully wrapped it wound Peter’s neck. He never thanked her but the look in his eye was grateful enough and that was all she needed before she stood and turned back just in time to see Ivan haul Matthew from the ground. He stumbled slightly as he was suddenly remembered and dragged in front of Gilbert.

“You’ve had the pleasure of meeting Matthew before I presume?”

Matthew gave Gilbert a weak nod of which he replied with a single nod of his own. Ivan didn’t care for the gesture, holding the Ace by the back of his shirt as if he were hanging him out to dry. Clearly, he was sick of waiting. The time to move was now.

“Great! Gilbert, if you would be so kind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First of all, I would like to say that I’m sorry for the delay on this chapter. I have been rather ill over the weekend and so I have had very little time to finish this chapter, proof read it and post it. 
> 
> That said, it’s here now and it’s a pretty big one with lots of things that happen. Ivan is going to crazy extremes and introduces us to our well-loved Jokers! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 

Alfred didn’t know how long they sat there, simply wrapped within each other’s arms. Quite frankly, he didn’t care.

He had never felt more content than in that moment, sitting there on that stone-cold bench with a frozen butt and Arthur nested against his side, his steady breathing and the sound of birdsong above them almost enough to send him to sleep. Everything was so peaceful, so calm, like nothing had ever been wrong. Like nothing _was_ wrong. Alfred could have stayed in that bubble for the rest of eternity if he could.

Yet, it wasn’t home.

As much as he wanted to, he knew that responsibility awaited him. The title of King was still his to command. His home, sat miles away across the border in a kingdom all his own, was awaiting his return. His throne was waiting for him to sit atop it and commit royal duties with pride, his crown, his staff, his bed, his wedding ring… his brother. Everything and everyone had their faith in him to come to their rescue; to be their hero and save them from Ivan.

He would make sure that not a single person was let down.

Rubbing Arthur’s arm, he watched the clouds trailing lazily across the open skies above them and his lips curved into a small smile when he felt soft lips press lightly against his jaw. Looking down he saw Arthur watching him with loving eyes, ones that looked tempted to drop into slumber at any moment. Alfred quirked an eyebrow in silent question but Arthur only smiled gently and kissed the skin at his neck, sparks racing through Alfred’s veins from the feather light touches.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to kiss you, now that I can and all,” Arthur mumbled, his breath hot against Alfred’s skin before he returned to snuggling against his chest, getting back into that comfortable position. Alfred felt his stomach bubble with what felt like hundreds of caged butterflies waiting to be released. Undoubtedly, Arthur was the cutest thing that Alfred had ever laid his eyes upon. It was an honour that he was the only one who got to see the side of him. Sitting Arthur up, he twisted in his seat on the bench to cup his face in his hands and smiled brightly at him, unable to keep the raw happiness from his face.

“Then kiss me properly,” He whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to his Queen’s lips. Arthur hummed at the gesture, instantly melting in his hold and Alfred could feel Arthur’s hands resting against his chest as he tilted his head upwards so Alfred had more leverage. Smirking into the kiss, Alfred dragged Arthur from the bench and into his lap, laughing at the small yelp of surprise he received for doing so but smothering it with his lips.

Arthur’s lips were soft and each touch was like electricity coursing from one body to another. Alfred had missed this. He had missed the way Arthur’s fingers grasped at him, holding tightly to the front of his tunic so he didn’t fall and the way his other was pressed against the back of his neck, fingers threading through the strands of Alfred’s hair. Alfred himself found that keeping his hands from roaming Arthur was an impossible task. He held him tightly in his lap, one arm around his shoulders to keep him steady and the other rubbing circles at his hip.

He couldn’t recall how long they had been in the gardens or how many kisses they had shared since their apologies had been spilled. It felt like there was so much catching up to do and if it meant holding onto Arthur and never letting go so he could shower him in the kisses that he had missed for the rest of the day than Alfred was happy to comply.

Suddenly, faint sounds of crackling and hissing came from somewhere ahead of them, startling Alfred almost instantly so that his eyes fluttered open to look over Arthur to the large decorated flower bush not far from the bench they sat on. Arthur didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary, continuing to kiss him before his lips shifted down to Alfred’s jaw.

The King swallowed the whimper which Arthur would have drawn from his had his eyes not seen swirls of black mist forming several feet off the ground in front of the beautiful flowers, blocking them from view. Alfred’s entire body stiffed as he registered the noise was emanating from the cloud and it took him two seconds too long to realise why the sounds and the sight seemed familiar to him. It was then that Arthur noticed he had frozen solid like a statue, frowning at his face in confusion but he was ignored completely, even when his fingers delicately brushed away the hair from Alfred’s forehead.

This was the smoke that formed before a Joker arrived and when a Joker was to appear, trouble was never far away.

Alfred shot to his feet, forgetting that Arthur was still draped across his lap. The Queen screamed at the sudden change of events and fell into the gravel at his feet with a rather loud thud.

“Spades! Arthur, I’m so sorry!” Alfred cried, snapping out his trance like state immediately to offer a hand down to help Arthur to his feet however Arthur only slapped his helping hands away with a murderous glare. He stumbled to his feet rather ungracefully and brushed down his now dusty clothing, making him look more like a serving boy than ever thanks to the gravel’s dust.

“Twit,” He muttered in exasperation, far from impressed with Alfred’s way of changing the mood. Luckily for Alfred, instead of an ear full, Arthur’s attention was quickly redirected by the Joker’s smoke. The pair approached it carefully and cautiously, uncertain as to why it lingered and a Joker had yet to leap from the darkness. Yet, as they got closer the smoke diminished, leaving only an oval like shape floating in the air within its place. Alfred thought it looked awfully like a mirror however he was not met by his reflection staring back at him.

Instinctively he tried to put Arthur behind him, to protect him from harm whatever this may be. He didn’t know if it was dangerous and if it were, Alfred couldn’t take the chance that it would harm his Arthur. Not now that he finally had him back. He would much rather take the brunt than see his husband in pain. However, Arthur threatened to tread on his toes if he even attempted to do such a thing, shoving him rather forcefully aside until Arthur was the one stood in front.

“This is Joker magic. _You_ stand behind _me_ ,” He warned, voice stern and deadly serious. He even held out his arm slightly as if to dare Alfred to attempt to get around him. Alfred would never do such a thing. Arthur was very capable of putting him back in his place if he so wanted to. No matter how many inches he stood taller than Arthur, he would stay behind. Without shifting, Alfred could feel the magic barrier that Arthur deployed in front of them, separating them from whatever the Joker’s wanted. Protection.

The minute Arthur’s magic was in place the mirror-like object burst into like as if it were waiting for Arthur’s magic to activate it. Arthur gave him a weary glance over his shoulder, facing the correct way just in time as a face appeared within the levitating oval.

Ivan’s face.

This was no mirror, this was a portal. This was a message.

“King Alfred! How nice it is to see your face. You’re looking well even if you are hiding behind your tiny Queen.”

Ivan was grinning, eyes staring straight into his soul until they dropped onto Arthur in front of him; the Spade Queen’s shoulder’s squaring up as if he were ready to punch the portal. Even Alfred, on his limited knowledge of portal’s, knew that would do nothing but send Arthur into the flower bushes behind.

“You don’t. You’re looking awfully ragged. Spades not treating you so kind?” Alfred cocked his head to one side, taunting the Club King as he took in his general appearance. Whether it was the Joker magic warping his face or not, Ivan did look far less healthy than when Alfred had seen him last.

Purple bags lay beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, his skin so pale he looked ill and his eyes seemed to be sinking back into his head even if they were disturbingly bright in colour. His grin, however, was mischievous and only seemed to grow the more he spoke with Alfred as if seeing him was a relief rather than a burden. Ivan genuinely looked happy to see him. Alfred was unsure how he felt about that.

“You could say that.”

Ivan looked away for a minute before his eyes returned to Alfred. In the background, behind Ivan’s head, he could see his throne room; the sight alone stirred far too many emotions in his body like a large cooking pot. That was his home and Ivan looked comfortable – too comfortable. Despite the luscious greens Alfred could see of his royal attire contrasting against the soft and gentle blues of the Spade Castle he could see that Ivan was taking great pride in standing within that throne room.

“It seems you’ve been hiding. I didn’t take you for a coward Alfred.”

Alfred felt a growl form in the back of his throat, a snarl pulling at his lips. Ivan smirked at his response but Alfred didn’t bother to hide his disdain for the comment. He wanted Ivan to see. He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t hiding. He was merely fixing something else that was broken before he came back at Ivan with absolutely everything he had. He couldn’t wait to slap that power straight into Ivan’s cocky little face.

“I didn’t think your Queen would ever agree to such terms either. Then again, it was probably his idea. You do like lurking in the shadows don’t you Arthur?” Ivan’s eyes dropped to Arthur and the urge to tug Arthur behind him and shield him from Ivan’s unforgiving gaze was strong but he held his arms stiffly by his sides. Arthur stood strong, hardly fazed by such words as he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll go wherever my King deems it necessary. I don’t care where. So far, his decisions have not come to let me down,” Arthur replied casually in such a calm voice that Alfred almost forgot they were talking to Ivan and not some citizen from their kingdom. He kept his head forward, eyes focused on Ivan and Alfred watched as the Club King watched his Queen with narrowed eyes, far less pleased with the reaction it had drawn from him.

As if Arthur were no longer there and the brief conversation had never happened, violet eyes glossed over him and returned to Alfred behind, face straight and serious. All playfulness had drained from those amethyst eyes staring at him from the Spade throne room as if it had been suddenly sucked from him.

“You have hidden in the shadows for too long and let your council suffer for your wrong doings. Too many people have taken beatings in your name. I am being incredibly kind when I grant you two hours to return to Spade Castle before I begin a mass execution of your council.”

Ivan’s threat had Alfred’s extremities shaking so much they hardly felt real. His knees felt like giving out and he was certain a simply kick now would knock them from beneath him and he would tumble to the ground. His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides and he bunched up the fabric of his tunic in his fist in an attempt to keep his face unchanged, unresponsive to such high threats.

Ivan’s face too remained strong until he turned to face away, reaching out for something out of view. His eyebrows furrowed and he appeared to be struggling, the sound of faint voices growing louder but Ivan’s mouth remained pressed into a firm line until he spoke only once more as he dragged another man alongside him.

“Starting with the youngest.”

Alfred’s throat constricted as if a rope had been wrapped tightly around it, air struggling to reach his lungs and had Arthur not been in front of him for him to grab onto he really would have collapsed. Arthur’s shoulder kept him upright, his finger’s gripping him tightly. The fleeting thought of Arthur having a wounded shoulder passed through Alfred’s brain but it was gone before he could make true sense of it, his blue eyes wide and horrified as he started at his twin brother attempting to fight off the hands of Ivan dragging him before the Spade King and Queen.

“Don’t do it Alfred!” He yelled, shaking his head and getting as close to the portal as he possibly could. His violet eyes were clear with determination but Alfred could see terror written across his horribly bruised face. His hair clung to his forehead and stuck to his face with grease and grime, his glasses ever so slowly falling from his nose with his constant struggles.

“Matthew!” Alfred couldn’t help but scream as Ivan slapped Matthew and pushed him out the way, stumbling out of Alfred’s sight along with his desperate voice which trailed off into nothing but faint mumbles. Out of all that was being said, Alfred could only hear Matthew screaming his name over and over like a broken record; the sound of a desperate and broken man.

Ivan’s face cracked into a sick, twisted smile and he let out a laugh, followed by another and another. Uncontrollable, the laughter burnt at Alfred’s ears as his eyes hopelessly searched for Matthew where he knew he wouldn’t be. He couldn’t see beyond where Ivan wanted him to see. A torture, Ivan knew would cause him the highest of pains. All he could see was the sight of Ivan’s teeth as he threw his head back and laughed wickedly at his expense.

Alfred cried out again and could feel the way Arthur’s shoulder crippled under his strong grip, drawing a quiet whimper from him. Alfred moved his hand instantly. The last thing he wanted was to subconsciously cause Arthur harm whilst in panic about his brother. Clearly from the commotion coming from the throne room multiple people were in the throne room with Ivan. Alfred could hear the low murmuring of several voices; talking, yelling and crying but none of them made clear sense. His vision was starting to shift in and out of focus with unshed tears when suddenly one voice stood out much clearer than the rest.

“Arthur!”

It was small, far away and high pitched but crystal clear to their ears. Alfred could tell instantly that it was a voice not intended for them to hear by the way Ivan’s joyous laughter cut short, his eyes facing Alfred one last time with a twinge of panic before the portal simply disappeared without trace. Alfred blinked only once before it had gone. Arthur stepped forward as if trying to catch it before it escaped but all he did was fall forward and almost tumble into the neat flower bush.

“Peter?” Arthur asked in a hushed whisper, as if he had forced the name from his tongue, staring at the gravel beneath where the portal had once hovered before he span around on his heel to face Alfred. His eyes were panic stricken, far more than Ivan’s had been mere moments ago but Alfred could do nothing. He was immobilised by fear.

Ivan was going to start an execution of his council. His loyal members and followers were to die at Ivan’s hands – starting with Matthew. He was going to execute Matthew in a mere two hours. To travel from Spade Castle to Hearts was a three-day journey by horse and carriage. It was impossible to get there in time. Matthew, his caring little brother, was going to die at Ivan’s hand all because he had hidden away from his problems and focused on himself before his kingdom.

Ivan had said it himself; many had suffered in his name. Just how many did that list include?

Clearly Matthew was one. He knew that, he had always known that. As a twin, Alfred knew that Matthew would forever be a target. Was Yao in a similar state to Matthew? Beaten and bruised. The thought of his entire council laying in cold dungeon cells, tortured and crying out for him for days but to no avail had shivers crawling across his skin. He had let them down. He had failed them and now their stand of defiance would be for nothing.

He couldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t lay down and let this happen. No one would die – he wouldn’t allow it.

Burying his hands in his hair, Alfred pulled tightly. The pain it brought enough to drag him of his thoughts and into reality once more, allowing him to see straight and think clearly for a few moments. Blinking a few times, Alfred realised that he had been crying, his cheeks wet with tears, however he hardly acknowledged it. Instead he focused on the gravel that was no longer just beneath his boots but, rather strangely, was levitating in the area around him.

Ahead of him, Arthur as pacing back and forth, creating ruts in the gravel, and none the wiser to the rising stones lifting from the ground to sit in the air around him like a barrier. Struggling to swallow with such a parched throat, Alfred wiped at his damp eyes and strode toward his Queen. Floating shards of gravel tapped at his body as he walked through them, simply bouncing off him and twirling in the air.

Once at Arthur, he took him by the shoulders and shook him hard.

The second Arthur’s eyes lifted from staring distantly at his boots and met with the pools of blue that were Alfred’s eyes, the rocks clattered back to the ground. Luckily none of them hit either of them on the head as Arthur watched them fall back into position, the noise of them falling seeming to startle him more than the violent shaking. When green eyes returned to meet his gaze, Alfred’s stomach tightened at the way they looked straight through him. He was far more concerned about the distant staring and the way Arthur’s face was alarmingly pale than any flying rocks.

“Arthur?” He asked, giving him another lighter shake. The Queen’s chest was heaving, his breath uneven and laboured and his fingers were gripping tightly at Alfred’s forearms as if he were scared to let go. Alfred thought his Queen was on the cusp of fainting as he could feel his shoulder’s trembling beneath his touch. He was already prepared when Arthur collapsed forward into his chest. He remained conscious however the strength in his legs had weakened, needing Alfred as a support to hold him upright as he pressed his face into his chest.

Alfred held him tight, winding his arms around him and holding him up. His legs too were far from the strength they would have been and he tried to push past the fact he had almost gone down with Arthur in favour of being the support that he knew they both needed. Ivan’s revelation of his plans had affected them both but as Arthur’s breathing calmed from short gasps to a more reasonable speed where he could speak, Alfred understood just why he was so panicked.

“He has Peter…” His voice cracked as he gripped the front of Alfred’s shirt, Alfred pressing a kiss to his hair with a furrowed brow. He hated when Arthur sounded so vulnerable. He was not a man to be meddled with. He was not weak nor was he easily broken but family was just as important to him as it was to Alfred. Mentioning his little brother was equally as touchy as bringing up the topic of Arthur’s parents.

Unlike Arthur’s parents, Alfred was highly aware of Peter.

Peter was Arthur’s little brother but was also a young and powerful Joker. He could not live in the Four Kingdoms like a normal child with his older brothers and so Arthur hardly saw him. He knew just how much it pained Arthur to not have him around. He had been there, at Arthur’s side, when Arthur had wished his brother farewell and handed him into the guard of an older Joker. It had been a rough day, even for Alfred.

To know that Ivan now held Arthur’s entire remaining family captive was startling. Arthur came from a powerful family and Ivan could easily play into Arthur’s weakness as much as he could into Alfred’s. If there was one person, that wasn’t him, that Arthur would risk everything for it was that child.

After a few short minutes, Arthur regained his strength and stood upright. Alfred watched as his face went from disheartened to raw anger in the space of seconds, eyebrows drawn thick as he stepped from Alfred to give himself just enough space to kick at the gravel, sending rocks spraying across the gardens.

“How dare he?!” Arthur screeched, his voice deafening as it echoed out across the silent gardens and disturbing any nature that had settled close by. Even Alfred flinched at such volume, standing back and watching as Arthur continuously kicked at the stones. Rocks flew into the flowers, the bushes and across the pathway. Some hit Alfred’s shin but he remained silent, never moving.

It pained him deeply to watch his husband angrily kick about useless rocks like a child throwing a tantrum but Alfred was thankful that, at least for the time being, nothing had been set alight. He would never forget the time he followed Arthur out to the stables after an argument and found bales of hay ablaze with amber flames, Arthur merely watching in a trance.

It took several achingly long minutes of angry screaming, talking to himself and stomping on the rocks – Alfred assumed the sound for them crunching beneath his boots was satisfying enough for him not to move onto destroying the flower beds – for Arthur’s anger to subside and once it did he ran his fingers through his hair taking a much-needed breath. Alfred said nothing even when those acidic green eyes turned to him; only raising an eyebrow of question at Arthur’s flushed face.

“Shut up,” Arthur huffed, storming over to him and gripping his wrist before tugging him in the direction of the castle.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

Alfred smiled and rolled his eyes, following as Arthur dragged them out the gardens and back into the castle. He needn’t ask where they were headed – he already knew. Alfred intended to go the same way. They had to tell Ludwig of the message and figure out a plan to get back to Spade’s as quickly as possible to stop the murder of their people.

Currently, his and Arthur’s minds were no more than scrambled thoughts and worries – with family members from both sides heavily involved neither of them could think in a logical sense. Alfred certainly couldn’t. All he could see whenever he closed his eyes for the smallest of moments was Matthew’s fearful face, his skin covered in faded bruising and scars, pleading him to stay far away.

They needed clean minds, fresh eyes and unbiased opinions. The Heart Royals were allies that could give them everything they needed. They would assist and perhaps see flaws in plans where he and Arthur could not.

Ivan had made it clear he thought Alfred a coward. By now he knew that Ivan was well aware he was in another kingdom. Ivan wouldn’t resort to the aid of the Jokers had he not combed through his kingdom and failed to find the person he sought. With a surge of realisation Alfred realised that had he not ventured into the Heart Kingdom he would not have the option of a second opinion to assist him. He and Arthur would be on their own, running with no one to turn to.

Gripping Arthur’s hand, Alfred threw every thread of royal image that he had held onto out the closest window and ran down the corridors tugging a startled and stumbling Arthur alongside him. Ivan may believe him to be a coward but there was nothing cowardly in finding reassurance in your allies.

**XxXxXx**

“You said you could keep him quiet!”

Matthew flinched at Ivan’s voice so loud in his ears. His head thrummed with a painful ache from all the screaming, shouting and crying. His cheek throbbed from where Ivan had slapped him (again) and he wanted nothing more than to return to his cell, curl up on the floor and sleep until the battle was over and Alfred was hauling him to his feet in a warm embrace. Yet Matthew knew that was not going to happen.

Ivan was losing control. His guards would step nowhere near the throne room whilst a Joker remained within its walls, never mind that there were now two of them. Matthew was fairly certain anyway that Ivan would not want them observing as he practically dealt with the devil. With little support coming from Elizaveta, Ivan was a lone man trying to control an entire room of angry and reluctant people. Instead of providing assistance, the Club Queen stood not too far from Matthew as if he were the biggest threat to watch for. Clearly the two Jokers free to wonder the room were of no concern to her.

Alistair was still knelt on the floor where he had been for the majority of their little gathering, Peter nestled in his side. Matthew had to admit, the kid had balls. He certainly followed the Kirkland family line. Although huddled to his brother, the younger was facing Ivan with narrowed blue eyes that were alarmingly bright. Around his neck was a tied piece of fabric to cover his wound although blood was beginning to seep through – Matthew desperately wanted to tend to it.

The White Demon was stood in the centre of the room, putting himself between Alistair and Peter and Ivan up on the steps. Clearly the most powerful in the room, he was the biggest cause for concern yet his shoulders were relaxed and his hands were clasped behind his back, content that his work here was done.

“You are aware that Peter is Arthur’s brother are you not? How am I to stop a boy calling for his brother?”

Ivan hissed at the tone of the Joker’s voice, Matthew only smirking at such. He liked this Joker. Never before would he have said such a thing but anyone that brushed off Ivan or defied him in anyway was good in his books.

“You knew full well that Arthur would be there. You should have restrained him.”

“Of course, I knew Arthur would be there also. I’m a Joker, I know everything,” Gilbert smirked, signalling over to Peter that it was time to leave. Alistair seemed hesitant to remove his grip from the young boy’s shoulders and even Matthew felt a twinge of sadness that Peter was leaving under such turmoil circumstances. It had been years since Matthew had seen the boy. He only wished that Arthur got to see him safe.

At that moment, crimson eyes flickered over in his direction. Matthew felt his chest tighten as Gilbert observed him, tilting his head slightly with a furrowed brow before giving Matthew a single nod of his head. Matthew didn’t understand but felt it necessary to nod back.

Before Peter was allowed to leave Alistair’s arms he was given a tight squeeze, the young boy reluctantly leaving the warmth of his brother’s embrace to stand at Gilbert’s side. When Ivan’s eyes followed him threateningly, Peter hid somewhat behind Gilbert.

Matthew could sense that Ivan wanted to say something, he could see the pain in which holding back his voice caused, yet Ivan caught on quickly. Anything he said could now be twisted against him. Jokers were manipulative – using them like this was already a danger no man should ask for and Matthew, despite his distain for the Club King, thought that perhaps he might have a growing guilty conscious.

Ivan had never gone to the lengths of hurting a child before.

“Do not forget Club King that a threat against one Joker is a threat to us all. Today has been a great imbalance. I hope, for the sake of your kingdom, it does not come back around to bite you.”

Gilbert’s warning sent shivers down Matthew’s spine even though it was not directed to him, his lavender eyes watching as black smoke returned to the throne room and engulfed the two it was searching for. Through the smoke, glowing blue and red eyes continued to stare at Ivan until they disappeared into the darkness, the smoke vanishing with them as the room was returned to how it was once before.

Silence that was almost deadly followed until the scuffing of Alistair’s boots against the floor startled everyone. Getting to his feet he made a point to make as much noise as he could, rubbing gently at his wrists which were red raw from his struggle with the shackles now laying redundant on the floor at his feet. If he were bothered by the pain they had likely caused he didn’t appear to show it, his eyes focused only on Ivan.

He said nothing for a moment before his eyes dropped back to his wrists, sighed and then spoke his mind.

“A mass execution sounds a little dramatic don’t you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finding the time to sit down and read this through a final time was an absolute nightmare but it’s finally been proof read and up to a standard that I’m happy with. With so much uni work piling up on my ass I’m finding it hard to find the balance. 
> 
> But! I will not be giving up on this story no matter how hard uni throws its papers at me! There is still plenty more to come :D 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

 

Kiku had been enjoying a delightful pot of herbal tea in the drawing room with his fellow royals, discussing and discreetly celebrating the success of their secret mission to get the Spade Royals to speak with one another, when a small wisp of gentle blue light drifted through the wooden doors even though they were closed.

It did nothing, simply hovering at the doors and his one-sided conversation with Feliciano dwindled away as the Jack’s attention was caught by the soft light. Ludwig’s head lifted from where he was nose deep in a book as Feliciano’s bubbly voice stopped, placing his tea cup down upon the side table of his chair and scowling at the odd spectacle before them. Even Kiku lowered his steaming cup to the table.

He was ever so thankful that he had because not seconds later those doors were thrust open without care for knocking. The heavy doors swung open so forcefully that they crashed back against the walls they were attached to, Queen Arthur pulling a face at the creaking wood as he stood in the doorway with King Alfred at his side. The young King hardly even flinched at such noise, glancing over the three royals before him until they landed on Ludwig and he strode into the room like a man on a mission.

Kiku had never seen two more shaken looking individuals. Even when the pair had been dragged into their throne room on their knees they had held more composure than what they displayed now. Both were short of breath, as if they had run the length of the castle, and Arthur was covered in remnants of dust like he had been rolling around on the Heart Garden’s floors.

The Heart Queen daren’t think what the two had been up to in his precious garden.

Instead, he turned his attention to Feliciano. The younger was fumbling and muttering at his side clattering with the china as he put his teacup back on the table with considerably less tea in it than it had once held. The rest was, quiet visibly, spilt across his lap and his low hissing at the liquid indicated that it was still rather hot as it absorbed into his clothing.

“I need your help.”

Alfred marched directly to Ludwig, standing in front of the chair which Ludwig had once been relaxing in, and demanded his upmost attention. Across the room, Kiku caught Arthur’s eye and could see that his fellow Queen wished to apologise for the rude and undignified interruption – the way he looked at Feliciano trying to draw the stains from his shirt with a cloth was clearly of horror – but Kiku could sense there were far more pressing things at hand than apologies.

The young King looked desperately worried, more so now than the moment in which he had arrived. With every hour that passed, Alfred was beginning to act less and less like the King he was. It already had Kiku greatly concerned and now, now the poor man looked ready to break. If something had happened where even Arthur had thrown away his formalities – something he prided himself on – then he needed to consider himself worried also.

The pair of them looked like they had seen ghosts.

Ludwig turned his head, looking from Alfred before him to Kiku across the room. It was a brief glance, their eyes only just meeting each other’s before Alfred stepped to the side, his body blocking their view. His boots were loud on the floor as if he were stomping to get his point across – very unlike a man whom had been raised in a castle for his entire life.

“Alf!” Arthur whispered in warning. He made the short trip across the room and took Alfred’s hand, giving it a light tug but Alfred neither moved nor listened. His shoulders simply tensed until he took a deep breath and rolled them backwards, appearing to take Arthur’s warning seriously. He gave a discreet nod, lowering his head toward Arthur before stepping back so they were side by side and in everyone’s eyeline, addressing the room.

“We received a message from Ivan.”

The sole mention of the Club King’s name had all the attention Alfred could ever want directed his way. Ludwig straightened up in his chair, book now discarded on the side table, Feliciano stopped fussing with his mess and Kiku felt his stomach twist, already getting the incline that his message had not been of good news.

“As expected he’s been looking for me, unsuccessfully of course. He used Joker magic to get this message to me.” Alfred’s voice seemed to cut out for a moment before he moved onto the next part, the Spade King swallowing thickly and needing a reassuring squeeze of his hand from Arthur before he could continue.

If nothing else, Kiku was glad to see the two of them back to their old selves. Standing in the same room as them whilst the pair remained reluctant to speak their feelings was insufferable.

Alfred’s blue eyes roamed over each of them and then dropped to the ground, his shoulder’s slumping forward and Kiku could only see the image of a breaking man stood before him. Cracking at the seams, it appeared that Alfred could hardly keep things together anymore.

“Ivan is going to start a mess execution of my council. The first of which is in two hours and if I don’t get home before then he’s going to execute my brother…”

Kiku tried not to visibly flinch at the way Alfred’s voice cracked, nor did he react when Feliciano gasped in his ear. He knew that Ivan would retaliate violently to Alfred’s disappearance. He was not one to sit in silence for long and would not simply sit back and wait for Alfred to make that crucial first move.

“I have to go back… I have to go home.”

“We need a plan of sorts,” Arthur interjected, sadly watching the way Alfred’s eyes looked over his boots. “In the message we not only saw Matthew but we heard my young brother’s voice. He has Peter involved in this somehow for reasons that I am not aware of, but with families from both sides in danger we were hoping that a fresh set of eyes would be of use.”

Kiku nodded in understanding almost immediately and observed the way Arthur’s shoulder’s dipped slightly in his relief. Kiku was more than happy to help a fellow Queen back to his throne; drawing up a plan for the Spade Royal’s return would not be easy – especially with time ticking away.

“Two hours?” Ludwig asked, standing from his chair. Alfred looked hopeful, nodding in response as Ludwig rubbed at his temple. “Time is not on your side. Feliciano, send for Lovino and regroup with us in the throne room. We have to work quickly.”

**XxXxXx**

Staring at one of the many stained-glass windows within the throne room, Arthur was reminded that they had been here far too long. Heart’s had been kind; they had offered shelter, warmth, a friendly smile and medical supplies in a time where had Arthur not received such treatment he would have grown ill. Now, however, the were suffering the consequences of taking advantage of such amenities.

Arthur couldn’t help but rub at the bandages still wrapped snuggly around his torso. There were fewer now, his wounds healing much faster with Antonio’s consistent care and attention, but still they stung with the occasional pull. Not fully healed, they would have to do. Arthur could not bring Antonio along with him. Leon was back home in Spade Castle, he trusted his healer and was certain that by the end of this quarrel Leon would have his work cut out for him. Perhaps a raise would be in order.

Behind him, Arthur could hear Alfred and Ludwig discussing many theories and strategies each with their fair share of holes within them. All lead to one same conclusion.

They would not reach home in time to save Matthew.

Every now and then, Lovino or Feliciano would push in their thoughts however within seconds both Kings would point out a flaw which proved the theory useless.

Arthur folded his arms across his chest and looked up at the beautiful window before him. It was intricately designed, the glass colourful as the sun shone through and cast colours across his skin and the floor around him. Mostly reds and pinks, he missed the stained-glass windows of Spades where blues and purples would turn the floors into oceans instead of sunsets.

Kiku appeared at his side silently, their King’s continuing to delve deeper into the problem where time was strictly against them. Soon Matthew’s execution would be upon them.

“How are your wounds?” The Heart Queen asked softly, eyeing Arthur’s shoulder before facing the window. Arthur never moved, he didn’t have to as he continued to focus on the glass. He was far to caught up in his own whirlwind of thoughts to admire the detail shown before him.

“Better, thank you.”

He saw Kiku nod only once out the corner of his eye as a silence that was common settled between them. Arthur knew, however, that there was an unasked question lingering in the air. He didn’t need his fellow Queen to voice it, he knew the question already.

“I know what you are going to ask of me,” sighed Arthur, turning his head to face Kiku who was smiling gently up at the window before his eyes lowered and faced Arthur instead.

“It is not for me to ask of you Arthur,” Kiku said, turning to look at Alfred over his shoulder. “It is for you to ask of yourself.”

With that the Heart Queen gave him a light pat on the shoulder and walked away. Arthur wrinkled his nose at the twinge of pain that shot through his skin but ignored it, taking a breath, and looking to Alfred who was deep in conversation. His eyebrows were furrowed and his body tense as if holding the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Seeming to sense that he was being watched, Alfred’s gaze shifted his way. He tilted his head to one side in silent question, his frown only deepening, but Arthur did nothing more that lift the corners of his lips into a half-hearted smile.

Alfred clearly didn’t understand the notion, he mostly likely didn’t care for it. His eyes lingered on Arthur a second longer before retuning back to the matter at hand. Of course, Alfred would not appreciate the sentiment, he had no reason to. His brother was to die at the hands of his enemy.

Arthur rubbed at his shoulder as he gathered his thoughts. He knew what he was to do. His path had been handed to him the moment a crown had been placed upon his head. Walking from the window, Arthur took the few short steps toward the arguing royals which he had unknowingly tuned out

“I’ll apperate us in.”

Everyone continued with their discussion for the shortest of moments before they registered Arthur’s contribution. Their voices dwindled down into nothing, staring at him with blank faces as if he had only just walked into the room. Arthur was somewhat offended that everyone had so easily forgotten about him and his capabilities – especially his own husband who was staring at him in a mixture of shock and horror. Arthur was the most powerful sorcerer within the Four Kingdoms, even with wounds far worse than his own he could still preform magic beyond the imaginable.

“What?” Alfred asked after a second of hesitation, as if he had heard his Queen wrong. His face twisted into a look of pure and utter concern which did not fade upon Arthur repeating himself is a much more assertive tone.

“It is the only way that we will get there fast enough. I can apperate us close to the city. From there we will have to borrow horses and ride into the castle courtyard before the execution. It will be close; time is already closing in as we speak but we are struggling for choices. It is this or your brother’s death Alfred.”

The Spade King opened his mouth to argue, clearly concerned that Arthur’s wounds were not yet healed for him to use such powerful magic. It was a valid response.

Apparition required a lot of energy, a strong body and a focused mind. Arthur could easily tear open his wounds during such a journey but that was a risk he was willing to take if it would save the life of his loyal Ace. Matthew was not only a vital part of their council, but he was Alfred’s twin brother. He was family.

Before Alfred could voice any worries or concerns Arthur felt his skin begin to crawl, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge as he shivered with a chill that had not previously roamed the room. Electricity seemed to course through the air and the static that formed in his hair was loud enough that Arthur could hear it crackling. His shoulder’s tensed at the sudden shift, staring directly to Alfred whose eyes had widened and drifted past him.

Swallowing, Arthur’s eyes dropped to his feet when he felt something cool brush against his leg. Black smoke entangled his boots and within it small lightening strikes cast across the darkened smoke, reaching for him as if in warning to stay away.

A Joker was on its way.

Arthur could feel his heart drop. This was not what they needed – certainly not now. Time was already working against them and Jokers were nothing more than mischief makers. If they were working in alliance with Ivan, then that meant they were here to stop them reaching Matthew in time. To delay them until the worst had happened.

Lost in his thoughts, Arthur barely saw Alfred’s arm come flying towards him. The limb came at him so fast that it was simply a blur that grabbed hold of his jacket and yanked him forwards and away from the Joker appearing behind him. He stumbled into Alfred, who caught him in his arms, and with a dizzy head spun around to see that the black smoke had vanished. In it’s place was the White Demon, a man which Arthur knew plainly as Gilbert, who casually stood within the throne room of Hearts as if merely visiting old friends.

Arthur noticed that he looked a little worse for wear; he looked tired and drained despite his grin but that didn’t stop his gaze from skipping over everyone else to reach Ludwig. His confident smirk lost its fire upon their eyes meeting, that smile turning bitter sweet seeing the Heart King.

“Have you missed me, little brother?” He asked and Arthur couldn’t help but turn his head to see just how Ludwig would respond. Gilbert and Ludwig had a complicated relationship that was unlike the one he had with his own Joker brother. Whereas Peter was young and innocent still, Gilbert was not so.

His mother had not taken him, instead preferring Ludwig to her first born. Gilbert was shunned for his looks and called a demon by his own mother. Unknowingly, she had turned him what Arthur was staring at. Ludwig’s mother had made certain that it would be Ludwig sat upon the Heart throne after their father passed away and not her crimson eyed son.

Ludwig hardly flinched at the question, remaining firm in his stance. His eyes were cold, unwelcoming and nothing alike the ones Arthur had seen throughout his entire stay in the castle. It was a silent warning, clear as day to all that if Gilbert took one step out of line the consequences would be great. Although family, and friends, Arthur had to admit that Ludwig was nothing but right.

Jokers were never to be trusted.

Behind Ludwig, Feliciano was grasping at his arm tightly, peering from behind and using the King’s larger body as a shield between him and the Joker. Lovino, too, had hidden himself behind the crowd of Royals, peering between Ludwig and Antonio’s shoulders. Kiku stood close by, the Hearts huddled together as if they had been trained to do so however Kiku appeared far less alarmed than his fellow Royals. In fact, Arthur was certain there was a hint of amusement glimmering in his eyes at Lovino and Feliciano’s antics.

“What are you doing here?” Ludwig questioned, ignoring his older brother’s question. Gilbert looked surprisingly deflated that he had not received an answer of sorts but said nothing more about it, eyes dropping to the floor for barely a second before they drifted up to Arthur.

Arthur stiffened but squared his shoulders, ready to use magic if it was needed. However, Gilbert’s look was not threatening. In fact, he looked relieved to see Arthur. His red eyes were almost gentle and caring as he held out a hand to his side and his lips lifted into a soft smile.

“Keeping my promise.”

Arthur barely even heard him as more black smoke formed next to Gilbert, smaller this time in it’s size. Arthur’s heart caught in his throat as he waited with baited breath, watching until Peter leapt from the smoke as it dispersed into nothing. He looked instantly to Gilbert before his eyes scanned the crowd of royals before him.

“Peter?!” Arthur cried out, shoving past Alfred from where the Spade King had defensively tried to hide Arthur from the Joker’s eyes. He scrambled across the room in a desperate race to reach his brother, Peter’s arms already held out to him so that the minute they came together Arthur could lift him tightly into his arms. Peter’s legs locked around his waist and his arms were tight around his neck, pressing the side of his head almost painfully against Arthur’s.

The Spade Queen had never felt so much relief upon seeing his younger brother stood breathing in the company of another Joker. Holding the back of the boy’s head, Arthur ran his finger’s through his hair in a tender touch.

“Oh Spades, thank goodness you’re alright…”

“I’m fine Arthur! Gilbert saved me!” Peter sounded as cheerful as ever as Arthur lowered him back to his feet, swallowing the overwhelming emotion that had overcome him. He was so happy he could cry.

Kneeling on the ground before his brother, Arthur inspected every inch of Peter to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving him and that he was truly as fine as he said he was. Readjusting his jacket, he held the front to his tiny chest before noticing a small piece of torn cloth wound around Peter’s neck.

It was faded green in colour and darkened splotches of blood seemed to have seeped through slightly at the front of his throat. Arthur gently reached up to touch it, feeling the fabric between his fingers as he eyed the knot tied to the side below his ear.

He frowned at it, and then the blood before he rounded an intense stare up toward Gilbert stood a few steps away. Had Gilbert not been used to such death stares from Arthur he would have recoiled under such gaze.

“Ivan used him as leverage so that I would do as he ordered. Luckily for you Liz called me before he could cut his throat. I suggest when you see her a thank you is in order.”

Arthur felt like words should have been spoken on his behalf, but they failed to come to him. Instead he turned back to his brother, looking up to him with clear concern. He could see the surprise in Peter’s eyes, but he hoped the boy would have more sense than to mock him for it – they didn’t see eye to eye on most occasions, but Arthur hadn’t known panic quiet like it when he had heard Peter’s strangled cry on the other side of that portal.

“Promise me you’re alright?”

Peter rolled his eyes but nodded once more, wincing slightly at the movement of his head.

“I’m okay. My wounds will heal, wont they Gil?” He turned to face the older Joker with a small smile, Gilbert’s arms folded as he stood close by and tried his best not to watch the pair. He attempted to make it look as if he had not been watching (quite clearly, he had been) and nodded silently before his eyes dropped to his boots and he scuffed them against the marble floor.

Arthur nodded once in final agreement that he would not press further on the matter, ruffling his brother’s dusty blond hair as he got to his feet and clearing his throat upon facing his fellow royals. He couldn’t help the way his cheeks warmed at seeing several pairs of eyes staring at him, meadow green eyes focusing on Alfred who was smiling – a genuine smile which Arthur had not seen in a long time.

The neck tie around his neck suddenly felt like it was strangling him.

Peter was quick to forget Arthur, darting around him to get to Alfred and laughing loudly when Alfred lifted him high into the air before tickling him as if their quarrel with the Club King was non-existent. Arthur, for the briefest of moments, was stunned how quickly the tension within the room dimmed.

“Thank you,” Arthur said softly as he stood beside Gilbert. The Joker merely nodded as he watched Alfred spin Peter around in a circle and tickle him some more. Arthur noticed however that his eye was drawn across to the Heart Royals, gathered in a small group where they continued to discuss options. Their eyes constantly flickered between Gilbert and Peter as if they were curses upon their land.

In all fairness, Arthur could not blame them.

“You aren’t just here to bring my brother to me, are you?”

“No.” Arthur suspected as much, folding his arms and waiting for Gilbert to continue. “Ivan crossed us by threatening Peter and I told him that consequences would arise because of such actions however that doesn’t mean we can pick a side in this battle. As Jokers, we keep the balance of the realm. To suddenly pick a side simply because Ivan has crossed our path would not keep that balance,” Gilbert explained.

Arthur couldn’t say he wasn’t a small bit disappointed; help from the Jokers would certainly be appreciated, especially if it included kicking Ivan’s arse deep into the ground.

“Bringing Peter here is for you both. It just so happens that whilst this exchange occurs time is frozen.”

The Spade Queen could hardly believe his ears at what he was being told, staring at Gilbert with widened eyes.

“Y-You stopped time?”

The White Demon smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

“I can’t pick a side but he took advantage and hurt one of us Arthur. The least I can do is slow him down. As long as Peter remains in this castle, time will be locked in place. Do what you must.” Gilbert patted his shoulder before giving it a light squeeze of reassurance. Hesitating slightly, Arthur realised just what Gilbert was giving them.

Time.

It was the one thing they needed more than anything else and Gilbert had handed it to them willingly.

“Thank you, Alfred and I will be in your debt.”

“I don’t want to see Matthew die any more than you do. You owe me nothing.”

Arthur could have hugged Gilbert at his kindness which was unlike the man he had known for many years previous. Sure, Gilbert had his moments but this was a kindness that the Jokers were not known for.

With a final nod of his head, Arthur walked from Gilbert and caught Alfred’s eye. Without words he called him over to the others, Alfred eyeing him in suspicion as he lowered Peter to the ground and followed, gently rubbing his arm. Arthur hoped he had not exhorted himself by playing with his brother. Although not overly impressed his human climbing frame had been taken from him, Peter allowed Alfred to leave him and instead scurried off to pester Gilbert whilst the royals gathered in discussion once more.

“Gilbert has graciously granted us with time. As we speak now time is stopped to the rest of our realm. We need a plan and we need a plan now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Long time no see! 
> 
> I apologise profusely for the unexpected hiatus that happened however university was getting intense and I had to prioritise my studies. Thankfully, university is out for the summer now and I am slowly getting back into the swing of writing this fic again. My passion to complete this story continues to burn! 
> 
> This chapter reintroduces our lovely Jokers, this time in a far less tense situation. 
> 
> I have so much more planned for this story although we are arching into the final stages. Things are about to get rather dramatic as we head into the final showdown between our quarrelling kings. 
> 
> Unfortunately, I cannot promise a steady upload schedule like before as it is taking me a while to get back into my writing and being happy with it. Think of it as a little surprise from me when I upload. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! Leave a review if you did!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well would you look at that? Who would have thought that after multiple failed stories and several years of being too scared to post anything that I would return? Maybe I’m a fool for thinking that I can one-day finish something that I start but I really like this idea I have going on right now. 
> 
> I’ve been debating whether to put this online for about a year now when I first had the idea and began to write it. Over the course of the year its changed a lot and continues to do so as I write more and delve deeper into the plot but now I feel like it’s time to put it out there. I’m proud of it so far and I hope to finish this one unlike all the others. I have multiple chapters already written however I don’t want to give you too much at once, where’s the fun in that? 
> 
> Anyway, I look forward to your reactions to this fic – my writing has certainly changed from the last time I uploaded something. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading and, please, leave a review. Thank you!


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